Shelter
by mynameiscaitlyn
Summary: The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way. Hunger Games AU.
1. Young and Sweet, Only Seventeen

**Shelter  
>Part I, Chapter I: Young and Sweet, Only Seventeen.<strong>

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song. Author's notes will be bolded, so feel free to skip over them if you want.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**I haven't written the whole story yet, but from what I'm planning, most of the story will be switching from their different perspectives but starting from the same point in time every other chapter. This is because certain events that happen to Brittany will be results of Santana's actions and vice versa and I want to keep the mystery, but still explain why everything happens. The exceptions to this would be the chapters when they actually have direct interaction in which the next chapter will pick up where the last ends.**

**Oh and if anyone has any questions, I can best be reached by my Tumblr. My URL is troutymouth.**

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><p>When she was just a child, Brittany Pierce would sneak into her grandmother's room while her parents were at work. She would climb that small single bed and curl up beside her grandmother's warm figure. She would stay in her embrace for hours and listen as her grandmother read her tales from a diary of a relative of another lifetime. Another lifetime, but not another world. Brittany remembers the tales of simpler times when the most important thing in an seventeen year old girl's life was things she, herself, knew nothing of like prom or cheerleading or first dates. She never understood any of those things or how life could be so simple and so different from hers.<p>

She didn't understand that life at all, but she knew it was better than how she, or rather, other girls her age were living in her time. So she longed for that life. She longed for cheerleading and prom and first dates and college and other things she knew nothing of. She longed for them and every year, since she was twelve, on the night before the reaping's of the Hunger Games, she would pray. She would pray and hope and cry to whatever higher power was out there, that she could live in that world. She was always a dreamer.

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><p>"<em>Did you know dolphins are just gay sharks?" She said, to the Latina beside her.<em>

"_No," The girl shook her head, with the corner of her lips turning up in a slight smile. "I didn't know that Britt."_

"_What are you laughing at?" Brittan__y asked, suddenly self-conscious. "I know I'm stupid. Just because you're my best friend you don't-"_

"_You're not stupid Britt. You're just really cute and you make me happy so I'm smiling, okay?" Santana responded quickly, cutting Brittany off. "Now stop worrying and eat your pasta."_

"_Can we still get our sweet lady kisses even though Finn left?" Brittany asked with a hopeful smile._

"_Of course, Britts," Santana smirked. "After we spend some of Finnocence's money."_

_A tanned hand lowered from the wooden table to the seat of the booth and intertwined with a pale one._

"_Awesome," Brittany smiled._

* * *

><p><strong>District Four<br>Six hours before the Reaping**

"Brittany!"

Brittany rubbed her eyes as she sat up in her small bed and yawned silently. She stretched her arms out and groaned at the dull pain in her back. Another dream.

"Psst! Brittany, are you awake?"

She heard someone call from the small window parallel to her bed. She hurried over to the window and opened it. She stuck her head out to see her blond-haired, blue-eyed best friend wearing nothing but a pair of swimming shorts. The boy looked up at her and waved his arms to her window.

"Shut up, Sam!" She yelled back at the boy. "You're gonna wake up my parents!"

She shut the window, not bothering to wait for an answer from him, and continued to move around her room, looking for her swimming suit. She finally found the black one piece and started to take off her pajamas and pull on her swim suit. Once she was done, she took an armful of old coats from her closet and arranged them on her bed in a lumpy shape of a person. She stepped back, satisfied with her work and threw her quilt over it.

She slowly opened her door, careful not to make any unnecessary noises. Once her door was ajar, she tiptoed towards her parents room and pressed her ear to the door. Silence. She repeated the action to the door of her twelve-year old brother, Kyle. Again, there was not a sound to be heard. She hopped down the stairs of her little house and stopped in her kitchen, grabbing a slice of salty, fish-shaped seaweed bread from the loaf for a makeshift breakfast. She shoved it into her mouth, forgetting everything her mother ever told her about being ladylike, and after a few seconds of deliberation, she pulled another slice from the loaf. She opened her front door, revealing Sam, sitting on her front step, impatiently.

"Thanks for keeping me waiting," Sam bit, in a playful but teasing voice.

"I brought you breakfast," Brittany smiled, cheerily and handed him the bread. Sam took the bread, apprehensive to give in to the guilt food, but began to eat it anyways.

"You make it hard to stay mad at you, B," he said through a stuffed mouth. "Why were you so late anyway?"

Brittany looked up at the sun's position in the sky.

"It's like 8:10, Sam. I'm only ten minutes late," She laughed and they set off on the path towards the docks, barefoot.

"I never understood how you could do that," Sam said, staring into the sun.

"It's not that hard, Sammy," Brittany teased. "We learned how in school, remember?"

"Still," Sam countered. "You've never been late in ever and we've been doing this for ten years. You've been having those dreams again?"

"Yeah," Brittany whispered quietly, as her mind floated to fabricated memories of Santana. She felt warm suddenly. Sam or her mother and father would dismiss it as the heat from the sun, which always was warmer than other districts at this early in the morning, but Brittany knew differently. This kind of warmth came from the inside and moved out and she knew it was Santana.

She didn't know why she kept having those dreams. She and Santana would always be together and they would always be wearing those old cheerleading uniforms from her old family photos. They would be talking and laughing and sometimes, although she would never admit it, they would be kissing. In her dreams, they were always so happy. But her dreams were a whole other world. A world she wished so desperately that was her own. But in reality, the only place she saw Santana Lopez was on her family's television screen and on the stage during the Reaping.

"You need to stop with these dreams," Sam decided after a while of silence. "Seriously, Brittany. It's not healthy, you know?"

"Hey, we're here already," Brittany deflected with a wide grin. The path suddenly turned white sand that felt warm between their toes.

"Whatever, Brittany," Sam scoffed, recognizing her obvious deflection.

"I'll race you," Brittany said, playfully, and took off towards the water.

"Cheater!" Sam called after her and ran after her.

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><p><strong>Five hours before the Reaping<strong>

"Do you believe in soulmates, Sam?"

They were floating, stomachs facing up, in the middle of the water, still warm from the cool night before. The familiar sounds of seagulls cawing and rushing waves are comforting for Brittany and in this moment, she feels like she could tell Sam anything and he wouldn't judge her.

"I don't know." Sam admitted. "Why? Do you?"

"It's weird, don't you think? That I keep having those dreams, I mean." Brittany replied.

"Yeah, it is," Sam agreed, half-heartedly, not wanting to encourage her.

"Maybe it means something," she mused. "Maybe she dreams about me, too."

"Brittany," he sighed, as he flicked water in the air with his fingers. "Santana is a Victor and a pretty hot one, at that."

"What's your point, Sam?"

"The point is she's not some fisherman's daughter, you know? She's probably got people everywhere throwing themselves at her and from what I hear about her, she probably welcomes them into her bed with open arms," Sam spilled out, not holding back for his best friend's feelings.

"How would you even know that?" Brittany rolled her eyes and asked him, incredulously. "You don't talk to her or anything."

"Neither do you," Sam fired back. "I was just saying what I heard from around town. Apparently, there's a lot of traffic in and out of her room."

"If you don't know then don't say mean things about her," Brittany interrupted.

Brittany turned her head away from Sam and closed her eyes. She attempted to block out his negative presence and instead focus on the sounds of the waves hitting her lithe body. Sam wasn't telling the truth. There was no way he could have been. Santana hardly came out of Victor's Village, let alone into the main part of town. No one ever talked to her.

"I'm sorry," Sam said finally, interrupting Brittany's thought. "You know how I get today. And I'm really worried about Stacy, too."

"I get it, Sam." Brittany smiled, bitterly. "My odds are the same, remember? Six for us and four for our family. And it's Kyle's first year in, too."

"Yeah," Sam trailed off and squinted his eyes into the sky. Brittany thought that she saw some tears in Sam's eyes, but she knew that Sam took pride in his strength so she ignored them. "It kills me that if she _does_ get drawn, I can't do anything about it."

"I know," Brittany sighed thoughtfully. It wasn't fair. They were just kids. "Can we start walking now? I don't feel like swimming anymore."

Brittany stood upright and began wading back to the shoreline. Sam sighed heavily and followed. As they began to walk back to their houses, they saw a distant figure sitting on the edge of the dock at Victor's Village.

They were about one hundred metres away, but Brittany, hungrily tracing the vague silhouette with her eyes, could recognize her from anywhere. Santana turned her head, sensing someone's gaze on her, and her dark eyes locked with Brittany's. When their gazes held, it seemed to Brittany as if they spent an eternity rooted in their positions. Like all else had faded away, but the two of them, in that very moment. It seemed like that moment was the only moment in all of history that mattered. All else faded away but those chocolate-coloured eyes on the dock.

"Brittany," Sam touched her arm, lightly, and she was knocked out of her daze. "Let's go home."

"Yeah," Brittany tore her gaze away from the girl on the dock and the two of them began to walk off into the now burning sun.

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><p><strong>Four hours before the Reaping<strong>

Brittany slowly and carefully closed the tall wooden door to her house. Once she was sure that no one had heard her arrive home, she tiptoed up her stairs, slowly, and made her way down to her little brother's room. She raised an enclosed fist and knocked on the closed door.

"Ky," she whispered, her lips in the crease between the door and the door frame.

She swung the door open slowly and peeked her head through the small opening. Her brother was wrapped up in his blue and white quilt with his tiny blonde head poking out of the top. His eyes were shut tightly and his lips were set in a straight line. It was obvious to Brittany that her brother was only feigning sleep. She stepped over his dirty clothes and a few pieces of paper on the floor of his room and sat on the edge of his bed, facing him. Her right hand moved up to his face and brushed a few wisps of honey-coloured hair from his eyes.

"Listen Ky, don't worry about today okay? You have one tesserae and everyone else has like ten so there's like no chance of you getting reaped okay? You're gonna be okay. Don't even worry about any of that. I love you, buddy," she whispered softly.

She lowered her lips to his forehead and softly kissed his sun-kissed skin. Then she quietly stood up, as not to disturb his faux-sleep. She crossed the short trip back from his bed to the door and looked back at her brother. She smiled softly, turned the door handle and opened the door. She was halfway out when he spoke.

"Brittany?" he called out her name and she turned around.

"Yeah, Kyle?" she responded, moving back into the room.

"I got three extra tesserae." And with that Brittany's heart stopped.

"What?"

"I wanted to help." Kyle offered, sitting up in his bed.

"I-" Brittany started. "You don't need to help, okay? Just leave the hard stuff to me. I'm the big sister; I'm supposed to do the hard stuff. Don't do it again, okay?"

Brittany strode over to Kyle's bed and sat beside him, throwing her legs out in front of her. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and gripped her forearm with the opposite hand. He smiled up at her as she pressed a tender kiss to the top of his messy blond hair.

"I'm serious, Kyle. Don't take any next year, okay? Promise me." she whispered.

"Okay," he said as he nodded with confidence. "Okay, Brittany. I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Five minutes before the Reaping.<strong>

Brittany was grasping Kyle's hand tightly as they stood in front of the enormous stage set up for the reaping ball. Her mother was standing beside Kyle, her arms tight around his upper torso and her chin resting on his head, and her father was standing behind Brittany, with one hand on each of his children's shoulders. Kyle was jumping back and forth on his heels, a nervous habit he'd had since he was a child, and Brittany's mother was desperately trying to calm her son down.

"Papa, can you see Sam and Stacey?" Brittany said as she stood on her toes and moved her head around, searching for the familiar head of bleach blond hair.

"Calm down, Brittany," her father told her firmly. "I'm sure they're close by."

"Ahem!"

A loud voice rang throughout the crowd and the nervous chatter subsided as a figure appeared at the front podium. Figgins, a short dark-skinned man who lived in the Capitol as a headmaster of a school, stood at the podium, leaning into the thin black microphone.

"Welcome to the 61st annual Hunger Games reaping ball in District Four. My name is Figgins and I will be drawing the names from the lottery today," he paused, waiting for an applause and a few people mockingly obliged. "Thank you, thank you. Before we get on with the reaping, I would like to introduce our past Victors that are not deceased. Let's have a warm, fishy welcome to the Victor of the 21st Hunger Games, Mags."

District Four's first champion was now a middle-aged woman, the leg injury she sustained from the Games was still evident as she hobbled across the stage. She smiled half-heartedly at the cheering crowd and slowly sat down on one of three chairs positioned beside the reaping ball.

"Here's the Victor of the 55th Hunger Games, David."

David Karofsky stepped out from behind a curtain and waved at the crowd with a cheeky grin. David had been one of the most dominating tributes that the arena had ever seen. He played the game alone, without deception and without allies, but also ruthlessly killed any other tribute that crossed his path with a donated fishing line. He waved to the roaring crowd one last time before taking a seat to the immediate right of the large reaping ball.

"And now say hello to District Four's youngest ever Victor, Santana of the 58th Games."

A thunderous applause broke out of the crowd. Men and even women, of all ages, hooted and wolf-whistled as the olive-skinned beauty sauntered onto the stage, signature smirk in place. She waved her fingers at the crowd and the cheers doubled. She took the empty seat, between Mags and David, and crossed her right leg over her left, dark eyes scanning the crowd.

"Wow," Brittany whispered, in awe of her beauty. Her father glanced at her quickly and shook his head, smiling softly.

"Now without further ado, I will draw the ballot for District Four's male tribute to the 61st Hunger Games,"

Figgins dipped his hand into the reaping ball and fished around for what seemed like ages. Brittany never knew how one boy and one girl were chosen every year without two boys being picked by accident or vice versa, and although she was more than sixty metres away, swore that she could see Sam's ballots. Figgins grasped a ballot and pulled it out. He glanced at the name printed on the sheet and cleared his throat once again. _Not Sam or Kyle_, Brittany repeated over and over in her head, like a mantra.

"District Four's male tribute for the 61st Hunger Games is Noah Puckerman."

Silence fell over the crowd and a few people gasped. Noah 'Puck' Puckerman was a strong, handsome seventeen year old boy who was known throughout the district for his signature black mohawk. Although the boy was a notorious womanizer, he was still well-respected throughout the town for sustaining the livelihood of his mother and younger sister since his father had disappeared after hearing rumours about District Thirteen having survived.

Brittany turned to her right and saw Puck carrying his sister and holding sobbing mother in his arms. He kissed them both on the forehead and whispered reassuring words of love and affection to them. He lowered his sister to the ground, kissed them both on the forehead once again and walked toward Brittany to get to the stairs on the left of the stage. His stride was confident and didn't falter once, but as he walked past Brittany she saw that his lower lip was quivering ever so slightly and his eyes looked glossier than she had ever seen. He stomped up the stairs and shook Figgins' hand with a clenched jaw. His eyes flickered to the Victors and rested on Santana, who quickly darted her eyes away from him.

"And now, I will reap District Four's female tribute."

Brittany sucked in a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut. This was it. Her last reaping. After this she would be finished. No more uncertainty and no more fear. She could live however she wanted.

"District Four's female tribute for the 61st Hunger Games is Stacey Evans."

Brittany's eyes shot open. No. Her chest suddenly felt heavy and it was like she couldn't breathe at all. How could it be? Stacey had _one_ ballot in the lottery. _One_. No. This wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Before she could process what she was doing, Brittany broke away from her family and ran toward the stage. She had to do this. She knew that she had to. Sam would do the same for Kyle. She was sure he would.

"No!" Brittany heard her mother scream, but ignored her. She ran through the throngs of people, weaving in and out quickly, not giving herself a chance to contemplate her decision. She felt someone's hand on her arm, trying to stop her, but she pushed it away. She climbed the stairs and found herself standing beside Figgins, hands on her knees, panting.

"I would like to volunteer myself in place of Stacey Evans," she said shakily.

**So there's chapter one. I would love if anyone who reads this shares their opinions and criticisms (in a nice way) through reviews. Reviews really do motivate me to write. Even a "good job" or something simple helps me to write. It makes me feel like someone's actually reading. So anyways, please review and I'll love you forever.**


	2. There's No Escape From Reality

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Two: There's No Escape From Reality**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

* * *

><p>"<em>Help me,"<em>

_There was a trickling path of blood from her blonde head down to her chin. Her eyes, previously as blue as the ocean, were now dark and almost beady. She was lying on the ground, with one of her arms bent at an angle that just wasn't natural._

"_Santana, help me,"_

_But she couldn't. She couldn't move one inch. It was like an invisible force had grabbed onto her ankles and held them down because no matter how much she willed her body, she was immobilized. She opened her mouth to soothe the blonde's current pain, but she couldn't speak either. She tried screaming but nothing sounded. _

_There was a howling noise from nearby. Her eyes began to fill with tears of fear and desperation. She waved her arms relentlessly, trying to release the invisible hold on her. She heard pounding footsteps coming closer and closer and ferocious growls filling the air._

_And then all she could hear was a piercing scream._

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><p><strong>District Four<br>Victor's Village  
>Six hours before the Reaping<strong>

Santana sat up quickly, tossing her thick duvet off of her. Her entire body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. She lifted her shaking hands to her face and wiped at her eyes. She bent her knees and rested her forehead on them, letting out a deep breath. She massaged her right shoulder, cringing at the feeling of the fragility of it years after the damage was done.

"What the fuck…" she muttered.

She stood up from her queen-sized bed and stripped her tank top and panties off, tossing them in a pile between her door and a wall. Stark naked, she walked across her large room to the door leading to the hallway. She pushed the door open and jumped in shock when she saw a large figure leaning against the parallel wall, with his arms crossed.

"Fuck, Dave," she rested her left hand on her chest, trying to get her heart beat down to a regular pace. "Knock much?"

"I did," he smirked and pushed off of the wall. He lifted his right hand in front of his eyes, trying to respect her privacy.

"If I don't answer the fucking door at," she leaned back into her room, and catches a glimpse of her large clock, "Eight in the morning, go back to your house, which is literally ten feet away. Don't fucking break it."

"Whatever," he laughed at her usual morning crankiness. "Mags told me to make sure that you were awake. She didn't want you sleeping in until an hour before the reaping like usual."

"I'll be there, all right?" She snapped at Dave, dismissing his words and leaned against the door frame, obviously not caring about him seeing her naked. "Aren't I always?"

"Yeah, you are," Dave put his hand back to his side and quickly looked at her naked body. "You're all sweaty."

"Thanks, I didn't know that," she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Bad dreams again?" He asked and she avoided his searching gaze.

"It's nothing," She shrugged and dismissed him. He stared into her dark brown eyes, not believing a word she said.

"Look I have to get ready. I'm taking a shower so I'll see you later," She called over her shoulder and walked down the hallway toward her bathroom.

She entered the room and closed and locked the door. She retrieved two folded towels from an overhead shelf and threw them on the edge of her bathtub. Then she pulled the glass door to her shower open and turned the shower on. She stood, half in her shower, half out, adjusting the heat of the water to her preference. Once she was satisfied, she stepped into the stream of water. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with steam filled air. She pushed her thick black hair out of her face and let the hot water run over her body.

She shut her eyes and tried to avoid thinking about her nightmares. They happened regularly, the horrible images of the terrors she had faced in the arena ripping apart that beautiful, beautiful girl and her watching, but not able to prevent it. The nightmares certainly frightened her, but yet every day she found herself anticipating them. It was an odd thing. She couldn't bear to see the girl be murdered every night. It was hurt her heart. But yet, she spent every day waiting for the next time she would have a nightmare, if only to see her beautiful blue eyes once again.

She hadn't deluded herself into thinking that it was healthy, on any level. She knew how wrong it was. And from the disturbingly concerned tone that Dave had put on earlier, she guessed that Dave and Mags were catching on, too. Fuck. The last thing that she needed was someone else watching her, let alone the only two people that she interacted with for the past few years.

She let the hot water run over her body for a bit longer and found herself sighing in content at the feeling, however fleeting she knew it would be. She quickly lathered her hair and body with copious amounts of soap and then ran her entire body through the water again before turning the shower off and opening the door, releasing puffs of steam into the cool bathroom. She reached for one of the towels on the edge of her tub and wrapped it around her tanned, lithe body.

She walked toward the large mirror and wiped the condensation away with her hand. She stared at herself in the mirror and at the ever-noticeable bags under her eyes. Her eyes travelled downward from beneath her eyes to the large scar running across her right shoulder. At the sight, she quickly turned around and picked up the other towel, starting to dry her hair and ignoring her reflection.

* * *

><p><strong>Four hours before the Reaping.<strong>

Santana stepped outside from her back door and breathed in the salty ocean air that she loved so much. It smelled like home. The same home she had always known. But everything was different. She immediately found herself on the first steps of the light wooden dock. She loved being so close to the ocean. It was her favourite part about living in Victor's Village. She walked barefoot down the dock until she reached the very edge. She sat down on the edge, letting her feet hang below and dip into the warm water.

Her eyes rested on two blonde teenagers floating, face-up, in the water not far from her. Although she could hardly see them, she found herself staring at the girl's tall frame that looked only like a dark silhouette from the distance. She imagined her long, silky blonde locks and tangling her fingers in them. She imagined her freckles on her smooth skin that remained pale despite endless hours spent in the sun. She imagined her soft pink lips and-

"Hey," she heard Mags' voice from behind her.

"Hi, Mags," she offered a small smile at the woman who had become a mother figure to her. Santana scooted over and tapped the place on the dock next to her so the woman could sit down.

"How are you doing today?" Mags asked.

"Okay," Santana replied, looking at the older woman. "I'm holding it in."

"You have bags under your eyes," Mags said, calmly. "Again. They're worse than usual."

"It's nothing," Santana shook her head and looked down at her thighs, avoiding Mags' wise stare.

"You should see someone. They have good doctors in the Capitol. They can he-"

"I'm not letting any fuckers from the Capitol touch me," Santana spat bitterly.

"I know," Mags replied, knowing how to deal with Santana's fits. "I shouldn't have suggested it. I'm sorry."

Santana shrugged it off, like it was nothing, when really it shook her to her core. She felt her burning hate for the Capitol spark inside of her stomach like a lit match dropping onto a pool of gasoline. She knew Mags meant well, but she also knew that Mags was fully aware of how she felt for the Capitol. She looked up and saw the beautiful girl, swimming. She smiled, in spite of her inner turmoil.

"You should talk to her," Mags smiled. "That girl. I see you leering at her all the time."

"She wouldn't want to talk to me," Santana shrugged.

"And why not?" Mags demanded. "You're a beautiful and smart-"

"Killer," Santana finished. She kicked her feet in the water, making small splashes appear in the air before dropping back into the deep ocean.

"You did what you had to do," the woman defended Santana, and in turn, herself. "And you came out alive."

"Besides," Santana gazed into the bright horizon, squinting her thick lashes in front of dark eyes. "She doesn't need someone like me in her life."

"You're a good person, Santana. Remember that." Mags looked at the sad, broken girl in front of her. She didn't know what else to say to her. She was broken beyond repair; anyone could see that. So instead, she placed a tender hand on her injured shoulder before standing up shakily and walking to her house, two doors down from Santana's.

When Santana looked back to the spot where the blonds had been swimming, they were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Three hours before the Reaping.<strong>

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

"Don't be such a smart ass," Dave sat down on the empty space next to Santana, previously occupied by Mags.

Santana had been sitting out on the dock, with her feet in the water, for at least three hours. Her feet were cold and her ass was getting to the point where she couldn't feel it, but she didn't move. Looking out at the horizon and the clear blue sky, she felt content for a rare moment in her life. She had almost forgotten about the stocky boy next to her when he cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes and made a point of looking at him, over-attentively.

"Yes, David," she fluttered her eyelashes, mocking him.

"Why do you always sit out here? I mean, it's a nice view and all but you're out here for hours," Dave asked, brushing the side of her olive-toned hand with his thumb. He had been reluctant to ask the question, not because he didn't feel comfortable around her, because he did, but because he knew her well enough to know that Santana wasn't big on sharing.

"I don't know. I guess because it hasn't changed," Santana shrugged as she looked out into the sky again.

"What do you mean?" Dave asked, tilting his head slightly to the side, like a dog.

"Do you know what my dad did?" Santana responded with a question.

"A fisherman," Dave nodded, a little bit proud that he recalled one of the few details of her life before the Games that Santana had shared with him and Mags.

"He used to take me out on his boat every Sunday. We'd spend the whole day out there. Just talking and stuff while he caught fish. Like an escape," Santana reminisced. "It wasn't much, but it was all I had."

"No," Dave said quickly, not wanting Santana to change the subject. "I get it."

"I see the ocean crashing against the itself and I hear the birds over my head and smell the salt coming off from the water and it almost," Santana's breath caught briefly at her memories. "It almost feels like home."

"Huh," Dave said. "I didn't really expect… Well, I just thought you'd say some sarcastic comment."

"Well, you're just about to hit your daily question limit of three so if you have anything else…" she trailed off in typical Santana fashion, with a cheeky grin replacing the thoughtfulness on her face.

"Actually, there is one more thing," Dave started off, clearly more nervous this time around. "Do you ever regret it?"

"It?" Santana asked, although she clearly knew what he was talking about.

"Yeah, you know," Dave let the end of his sentence open, scared to even say the words. He hadn't been on the end of a Santana fit before, but he'd seen her in the Games and even more he _trained_ her and he knew how strong and scary she could be.

"These past few years have been hard on me, emotionally, physically, mentally and everything in between. You of all people should know that. I regret a lot of things I've done and choices I've made," Santana spoke slowly and softly. "But, no. I've never regretted that."

"Not for a second?" Dave clarified.

"No." Santana affirmed, so sure of herself. "Not for one second."

The loud crashing of waves against the shore was the only thing that sounded. Dave felt a little bit awkward and misplaced, because Santana wasn't talking, merely looking back out at the ocean with a cloudy look in her eyes. He shifted around and cracked a few of his knuckles, a nervous habit he had since he was a boy.

"It's funny," Santana whispered. "Today would be my last Reaping, you know?"

"Yeah. I forget you're still a kid sometimes," Dave sighed.

"Seventeen," Santana smiled, bitterly. "And I feel like it could end any minute. What else is there for us?"

"I don't know," Dave hesitated.

"Today we're going to meet two more kids," Santana stated, with little emotion. "And in a few months, they'll both be dead."

"You don't know that. They could live," Dave disputed, although he knew it was probably true.

"You don't know that," Santana mocked.

Dave nodded and scoffed at the truth in her words. Then tired of her pessimism, he stood from the dock and started to walk the path towards his house. He was halfway back to his house beside Santana's, when he turned around and started walking backwards.

"Hey!" he shouted. Santana whipped her head to the side, looking at Dave from over her shoulder.

"What?" she called back at him.

"Try not to be so morbid this year," Dave grinned. "One of them might surprise you."

* * *

><p><strong>The Reaping<strong>

Santana was backstage with Dave and Mags, sprawled on a comfortable leather chair. Both Dave and Mags were both getting touch-ups from the makeup crew sent straight from the Capitol but they all knew not to lay a finger on Santana. Chances are, it would end up broken. She watched as the tall, good-looking people stroked the skin of Dave and Mags' faces with their soft makeup brushes and quickly look away, lips snarled in disgust. Dave caught her eye and fought a wide grin at her growing frustration. In an attempt to raise her spirits, he stuck his tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes with a slight smile.

"Miss Lopez?" Santana snapped her attention to a tall, thin red-haired woman holding a makeup brush expectantly. Santana stood up and looked down at the brush in disturbance and looked back to the woman's thin, ghastly visage.

"Is there a problem?" Santana asked, looking around.

"No, madam," the red-haired woman smiled falsely, "But you could use a touch up."

Santana stared at the woman blankly. She must be knew to the job. One of the makeup artists that looked familiar to the brunette rushed over to the red-head's side and whispered something inaudible. But Santana didn't need to hear to know what he was saying. She resumed her previous position, lounging on the couch. After a few minutes spent swinging one of her legs back and forth, the makeup team dispersed and she was left alone with her fellow Victors. She watched as Figgins, an old brown man from the Capitol, walked by with a tight-lipped smile. He nodded in their direction and the Victors smiled back, congenially.

"Victors," he greeted in an accent that Santana didn't recognize, "When I call each of your names, just come up on stage and smile and wave. Then take a seat to the immediate left of the Reaping ball. Any questions?"

"No," Santana drawled robotically, "We only do this every year, but thanks for the reminder."

"Right," Figgins nodded, looking at Santana cautiously. "Well, I'm off to start off the ceremonies."

He shuffled off onto the stage and Santana heard the crowd go quiet. She rose from her chair and stood beside a small curtained hallway leading to the main stage. She heard the usual beginning greetings and suddenly, Mags hobbled onto the front stage, but not before placing a warm hand on Santana's shoulder and clapping Dave's bicep in a brief moment of affection. As Mags disappeared onto the stage, she suddenly felt very nervous, as she did all those years ago. Dave tried to smile comfortingly but she shrugged off his advances and instead began to play with a single loose thread on her signature tight dress. Then, she heard Dave's name being called out from the loud speakers and Dave followed Mags' path to the stage.

"And now say hello to District Four's youngest ever Victor, Santana of the 58th Games."

With those words, she threw on her widest and fakest smile and stood tall. She moved the curtain aside and strutted out in front of the crowd. She let her hips sway easily as she searched the crowd for those brilliant blue eyes. Then, she stopped in front of the last empty chair and slowly sat on it, careful not to wrinkle her dress. As Figgins droned on in his monotone voice, Santana had finally found those blue eyes that she had been searching for.

She was in the middle of the crowd (or so it seemed to Santana) and she was surrounded by a young boy, an old grey-haired man and a kind-eyed woman. It was then that Santana realized that this would be her very last year. Another five minutes or so, and Santana would never have to worry about the beautiful girl being killed by the Careers or ripped apart by a muttation. Santana was leering at the girl, at her body (what she could see), and at Santana's favourite feature, her beautiful blue eyes. She didn't even realize when the crowd went dead silent and by the time she did, she knew why.

She saw a tall, muscular and dark boy with his hair shaved into a short Mohawk walk up the stairs toward Figgins. He seemed vaguely familiar to her and when he turned to give a short nod to the Victors, Santana knew why. Noah Puckerman's father was the fisherman who anchored his boat a few dozen feet away from her father. Or he used to until he ran out of the district chasing some pipe dream about District 13. Santana remembered playing with Noah when both of their fathers took them out on the water with them. She remembered that even from that age, he was really strong and even though he wasn't the brightest, he always seemed to know what he was doing. With age, it seemed that his strength had grown, and Santana noticed that he looked a whole lot wiser than he did at age fourteen.

"Maybe , he's the one," she heard Dave whisper at her side and she could only nod. There was no disputing the fact that Noah Puckerman had what it took to be a Victor.

"And now I will reap District Four's female tribute,"

There was a deafening silence that resonated in Santana's mind. Her heart rate started to rise slowly and she could feel the heat rushing to her olive cheeks. She let her eyelids flutter to a close and tried to calm her breathing. After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, Figgins finally announced the tribute.

"District Four's female tribute for the 61st Hunger Games is Stacey Evans."

Stacey Evans. She knew Stacey Evans. She looked in the crowd and saw everyone turn towards a family of bleach blonds. Stacey Evans. The younger sister of Sam Evans, her former classmate.

She did the math in her head. It was Stacey's first Reaping. She couldn't imagine what Mr. and Mrs. Evans were feeling right now. But truthfully, she didn't want to. She didn't want to empathize with the people who basically lost their baby girl. She could feel something that she couldn't quite place rushing through her veins. She was relieved. She let herself revel and linger in the slight euphoria that the relief had brought on. She wasn't paying attention to any of her surroundings.

She didn't notice the tall, pale blonde girl running up to the stage before little Stacey Evans could break off of her parents. She didn't notice when she stumbled up the stairs and she didn't notice when the girl stepped in the center of the stage. She, however, would never forget the feeling of her heart dropping when she heard the words to come out of the blonde's mouth.

"I would like to volunteer myself in place of Stacey Evans,"

Santana's head snapped to the middle of the stage at the sound of the familiar voice. She felt her heart sink into the deepest part of her stomach and it felt like a hundred pound weight was pressing down on her lungs, cutting off her air supply. She experienced tunnel vision; all she could see was the tall beautiful blonde girl. It was then that Santana Lopez felt like her whole world was about to implode.

* * *

><p><strong>So there's chapter two :3 Review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	3. I've Been Waiting

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Three: I've Been Waiting**

**Ships: **Brittana, minor Quick with Sam/Brittany, Puck/Brittany, Santofsky, Quinntana friendships.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

* * *

><p><em>Santana lowered her lips onto the soft, pale skin of Brittany<em>

_'s neck from her position on top of Brittany. Santana placed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and when Brittany's head sank back into the pillows, she moved across her protruding collarbone. She playfully bit at the bone, a place that she always found ridiculously sexy. Brittany squealed and Santana laughed softly against Brittany's bone._

"_Shh," Santana tried to quiet the blonde. She blew against the wet spot that she made on Brittany's skin, making the tiny hairs on the back on Brittany's head stand. _

_Brittany made a cute grunting noise, agreeing to Santana's command. Santana's hands slid from Brittany's waist upwards, bringing Brittany's tank top over a taut, muscular stomach and full, supple breasts. She pulled away from kissing at Brittany's skin to pull the top over Brittany's head and then carelessly threw it over her shoulder, not caring where it landed. Santana began to playfully nip and lick at the area around Brittany's right armpit and Brittany didn't even attempt to conceal her moan._

"_I love your sweet lady kisses," Brittany sighed, breathily. "Especially when you make out with my armpits. It's super hot."_

"_Yeah," Santana said as she moved up to Brittany's lips, hovering mere centimetres above them. "And how do you like this?"_

* * *

><p>Brittany frantically shot up from her previously lying position into a seated one. She pushed loose strands of tiny blonde hairs from the front of her eyes and sighed deeply. She felt a slight aching between her legs and, remembering her dream, her pale cheeks flushed a bright pink immediately.<p>

Trying to erase the alluring thoughts of Santana's pouty lips from her mind, she took a moment to assess her surroundings. She was sitting on a large bed, bigger than any she had ever seen. Her hands were holding her up at the edge of what looked like very expensive pillows and a large duvet was pooled around her legs. She pushed the blanket off of her and swung her legs off the bed. She stood and began to investigate the unfamiliar room she had woken up in.

The walls of the room were a dark, stained reddish wood and the few shelves around the world, adorning various books Brittany had never seen before, matched the finish. There was a burgundy three-seat couch in one corner of the room and a matching burgundy armchair in the other corner. Parallel from the bed, was a mirror mounted on the wall and on the dark red carpet in front of it, lay a large duffel bag that Brittany recognized as her father's and her messenger bag that she would wear out.

Out of the small window to her right, Brittany saw a fast-moving landscape of green grass and trees. It was then that she realized where she was. She was on the train on her way to the Capitol. But Brittany couldn't remember getting on the train. In fact, she couldn't remember anything after the Reaping. She immediately began to panic, wondering where her family was and if Sam and Stacey were okay. Did they even get to say goodbye?

Brittany kneeled in front of the mirror and unzipped the duffel bag. Inside it, she found piles of her clothes from back home. She dug through the bag, feeling around. She pulled out a large ratty grey t-shirt, one that every child in her class had made in the sixth grade. She pressed it to her cheek, revelling in the comfort that the familiar feeling gave her, before dragging it to her nose and inhaling the homey scent of oranges and sea salt. Suddenly, the door to her room slid open and Brittany jumped in shock. She sat back on her heels as Puck's familiar mohawked head appeared in her doorway.

"You're finally awake," he observed. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry and voice cracked. Puck pulled a canteen of water from his rather oversized pocket and tossed it to Brittany, who gulped down the water and nodded in appreciation. She lowered the canteen from her lips, screwed the cap on and handed it back to Puck, standing straight. "It's my turn to check up on you. We mostly just check your pulse and your breathing every few hours."

"What happened to me?" Brittany croaked.

"The crowd went in a frenzy after you volunteered yourself. We were all escorted to somewhere safe and they sedated you for your safety. Your family got to say bye and stuff, but you were passed out." Puck informed her, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Why was I sedated?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah, there was kind of a mini riot," Puck responded. "You're really popular in the district, you know. Everyone loves you and no one thought you should've volunteered after…"

"Oh," Brittany said, understanding clearly. "Has, uh, Santana been to check up on me?"

"No one knows where she is. Dave and Mags said not to worry so…" Puck trailed off, not sure whether to continue with his thoughts or spare Brittany's feelings. He chose the latter. Brittany fell silent, thinking about what Santana could be doing. Her running imagination jumped to the worst conclusions that Brittany could possibly think of.

"Do you, uhm," Puck stammered, nervous of the intent of his question. "Do you guys still talk?"

"No." Brittany shook her head. "Not a word since she was in the Games."

Puck was at a loss. He simply didn't know what or how to respond. Fortunately, he was saved, as Dave and Mags stepped into the room.

"Nice to see you vertical, Brittany. I'm David." Dave said, clearing his throat. He stuck his hand out in Brittany's direction. Brittany took his large hand and shook his hand, firmly yet awkwardly.

"And I'm Mags," the older woman smiled kindly. "We'll be your mentors for the Games and-"

"Sorry," Puck interrupted the woman and all three pairs of eyes were on him. "But where's Santana? She's our mentor, too, right?"

Brittany internally thanked Puck for answering the question that had been stuck in her head.

"She'll be along," Mags said vaguely, but with a standing finality so Puck didn't ask any other questions.

"So as Mags was saying," Dave steered away from the topic of Santana. "We'll be your mentors. We'll be helping you so that you can survive in the arena among other things."

"What other things?" Brittany spoke for the first time in the presence of Dave and Mags.

"The interviews," Mags informed. "They're almost as terrifying in the Games. How you portray yourself in the interviews and pre-Games events will ultimately decide if you get any sponsors and sponsors are integral for-"

A loud crash sounded outside the room followed by various voices speaking in a hushed tone. Mags and Dave shared a knowing look. Mags excused herself from the room and went into the hallway, sliding the door shut behind her. Dave looked at the closed door and back to Puck and Brittany.

"So-" Dave tried to begin but was interrupted by two voices, arguing from behind the door. The door slid open and Santana stumbled in. Mags was right behind her, trying to keep her standing but Santana just pushed off her insistent arms.

"The fuck is happening?" Santana slurred drunkenly. She moved past Brittany, Puck and a disappointed-looking Dave and fell face first onto the bed. She curled up in a small ball, grabbed one of the thick pillows and trapped it between her legs.

"Santana," Dave chided, calmly. "You shouldn't be here right now."

"This is my room and it's always my room, so everyone else can fuck off," If Santana was sober, the statement probably would've been a little bit intimidating. An icy stare and the right intonation would have anyone backing off.

"Santana!" Mags exclaimed, suddenly angered at Santana's word use.

"I do what I wants," Santana mumbled, pressing her face into the thick comforter.

"Okay, why don't we move into the hallway?" Dave suggested. Puck slid the compartment door open and stepped out into the hallway. Brittany followed blankly, confused at Santana's state.

"I'm sorry about that but-"

"Does that happen often?" Puck spoke boldly, knowing it was for both himself and Brittany. "Just wondering."

Dave sighed heavily and pushed the thin brown hairs out of his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned onto the compartment door and stared through the small circular window into the room. He seemed to be watching the two women inside.

"Look, things are complicated, okay. You guys wouldn't understand but it's tough doing what we do. It's not easy. I know that everyone thinks we just sit around the house drinking and eating and buying whatever we want and stuff, but we suffer. Santana has a way of responding to the difficulties we face, and that's it," Dave looked at Puck and Brittany with a sense of finality and turned to leave.

He started walking down the long hallway towards his own room when Puck spoke up again, stopping him in his tracks.

"I used to know her, you know, Dave. She used to be really strong. The old Santana was brave and didn't care what anyone said or did. That was the best part about her."

"You may have known her before," Dave suddenly seemed very intimidating. He seemed ten feet taller than his already very tall stature and his eyes took on a different quality than the one that the two young Tributes had become accustomed to seeing. "but you have no idea who she is now and you have no idea how much she has suffered. Maybe if you did you'd understand why she wasn't as brazen as she used to be."

Puck was stunned into a silent submission. He backed away from Dave immediately and when Dave walked away, Brittany felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. They didn't dare to even look at each other because they knew what the other was thinking. The had just met the boy that they had only seen on television. The instinctual, animalistic, fierce, killing Dave.

It was only when both Puck and Dave had left Brittany alone in the hallway that she realized that she had nowhere to go. She didn't know where Puck's room was and she didn't know if Mags and Santana were out of her room yet, so she walked. She walked and she wandered along the train, looking in different compartments for somewhere to sit and maybe even sleep, but all were full of bags, boxes and other auspicious looking materials.

Brittany sighed, tired of wandering and leaned her head back against the wall before sliding her back down so that she was sitting. She stretched out her long, lithe legs and yawned. Her eyes began to close, slowly. Her head gently fell forward and suddenly Brittany was asleep.

* * *

><p><em>There was a thin sheen of sweat on Brittany's slick, pale skin. Her chest was heaving and despite the fact that she felt like her body was on fire, there were tiny goosebumps running along her arms and back. Her hair was splayed out messily on the soft white bed sheets underneath her head. She was breathing heavily between deep, throaty moans and higher pitched whimpers. Her legs were spread out on the bed beneath her and she was grateful because she knew that if she was standing, her knees would probably buckle. She let out another low moan and her hands that were previously gripping the sheets to her sides, reached downwards towards that gorgeous head of dark, soft hair between her legs. She tangled her long fingers in luscious black locks and tugged gently.<em>

"_San, I'm gonna c-"_

* * *

><p>"Uhm, what the hell are you doing here?"<p>

Brittany's head snapped up immediately and she pushed off the wooden floor to her feet, reluctantly. She knew whoever had found her could see the look on her face was full of guilt (she had always been easy to read), but she only wished that they didn't notice the red flush to her cheeks or the way her pupils were the size of small planets. She was greeted with the sight of a tall-ish, but thin male who probably was a man, but looked more like a boy. He had pale skin and blue eyes, both of which were even lighter than Brittany's, and brown hair that was sort of swept back and to the left.

"I'm Brittany," she lamely stuck out her hand and with a quirk of an eyebrow, he took it and shook it firmly.

"Kurt," he said primly. "And I'm not supposed to say, but I'm going to be your stylist."

Brittany nodded understanding and caught Kurt's line of sight as he trailed down her long body, assessing her choice of clothing. Brittany looked down at her loose grey track pants and plain dark blue shirt and back up to Kurt, with a grim smile, apologizing for her wardrobe choice.

"I just woke up," she explained and he laughed, making her smile. She had always loved making people laugh.

"Well, don't worry. You have an excellent form and overall body structure along with natural beauty," Kurt clapped his hands together and widened his eyes, excitedly. "We're going to have a lot of fun together."

The door to the right of the pair opened and revealed a short, stout man, who Brittany assumed to be a chef because of his uniform, stepped out into the hallway carrying a covered silver platter.

"Ah, hello Mister Kurt," the man drawled in an unfamiliar accent.

"Hello," Kurt greeted. "Is that lunch?"

"No sir," the man shook his head and clacked his tongue. "It's for Miss Santana."

"Ah, I see," Kurt breathed out and frowned slightly, looking at the shiny silver platter. "Do you want me to take it to her?"

"No no no, Mister Kurt, I would never," the chef clacked his tongue and forlornly made his way down the hall, away from Brittany and Kurt. The pair watched the short man carefully manoeuvre through the hallway and when he was far enough away, Kurt turned back to Brittany.

"It's really shame," he lamented. "Santana truly is very beautiful. Naturally, too. And once you get passed the whole attitude thing, she's an okay person."

"I know," Brittany nodded.

Kurt span around and re-entered his cabin. Brittany stood outside, her eyes shifting, because she wasn't sure if or why Kurt had dismissed her. He looked at her expectantly and she quickly shuffled into the room. She watched as Kurt walked over to a large door similar looking to the one she entered. He pulled the door aside and Brittany saw more clothes than she'd ever owned in her entire life.

"Did you used to know Santana? You guys are the same age, you know," Kurt scanned the closet, pulling out various outfits. He held each one in the air so that he could imagine how each would appear on the blonde's frame.

"She was my best friend," Brittany smiled nostalgically. Kurt's electric blue eyes snapped to Brittany's, silently requesting an explanation. She wasn't sure why she trusted Kurt to speak more about it, but something about Kurt comforted Brittany.

"And?" Kurt placed the shirt he had been looking at on the wooden hangar, placed it on the rail in the closet and sat on his bed, suddenly very interested. Brittany copied his movements, and sat, cross-legged on Kurt's bed.

"When we were fourteen," Brittany started nervously, still a little bit unsure about sharing. "I was reaped."

"No!" Kurt gasped, his eyes widening in horror. "Wait, _you_ are the reason that she volunteered that young?"

"I guess so. But she hasn't spoken a word to me since," Brittany was suddenly very interested in the stitching pattern of Kurt's comforter. Kurt's hand held Brittany's loosely and Brittany remembered thinking that Kurt's hands felt as soft as a baby.

Kurt opened his mouth, ready to provide an ample explanation. An explanation that he could tell Brittany had surely been waiting years for. Brittany sensed that he was about to speak and looked into his cool blue eyes. But he faltered. He couldn't . It wasn't his place. Instead, he slunk an arm around Brittany's shoulder and rubbed it comfortingly. She had waited years for an explanation. It seemed like she would have to wait a little bit longer.

* * *

><p><strong>I thank everyone who has been reviewing because they really motivate me. I've private messaged anyone who has reviewed under a username, so I'd like to just take this time to say thank you to the anonymous reviewers as well. It really means a lot. Anyways, even though I know this chapter wasn't the greatest, I'd still love to know your thoughts on it and where you think the story is going. <strong>

**So, I'm taking some elements of the different stories from the character's of the Hunger Games and adding them into the story to make it more interesting. I'm obviously using Katniss for Brittany, but if anyone wants to know some guess some future details of the story, I will tell you that elements of Finnick and Johanna are making up Santana's back story. That's all I'm giving you guys for now, but I'd love to hear some guesses on what I mean by that.**


	4. No Time To Regret

**Shelter  
>Part One: Calm Before the Storm<br>Chapter Four: No Time To Regret**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

* * *

><p>As soon as Brittany announced that she was volunteering herself in place of young Stacey, the crowd of citizens fell silent. When Santana calmed her erratically beating heart enough to slow to a normal pace, she assessed her surroundings. She swore she could hear a pin drop. She peered into the crowd and saw a small riot form right in front of her eyes. People began to swarm the stage, upset at Brittany's choice. She heard people screaming about fairness and stupidity and rules , and immediately turned to look at Brittany.<p>

The blonde was swaying side to side, almost in a daze. Her eyes began to flutter shut and Santana that Brittany was going to black out. It had used to happen to the blonde often when she was just a girl. She would have some sort of emotional trauma, black out and then lose recollection of the event.

Santana felt a lump in her throat. She stood abruptly, knocking her chair back and ran the few steps it took toward Brittany. She grabbed her hand and almost retreated because she swore she felt an actual spark of electricity when she touched her. She pulled her off-stage and when they were both safe behind the curtain, she felt her body fall limp onto her.

Adrenaline pumping in her veins, she carried the much taller blonde down the stage and looked for someone she could trust. She whipped her head from side to side and saw a group of stage hands and security guards scurry towards her, ready to take the unconscious girl.

"No! Don't touch her!" she shouted at them. No one like them was going to touch her. At that moment, Dave came barrelling down the stairs, his heavy feet stopping when he saw Santana carrying Brittany.

"Santana, you have to give her to someone! Don't be rash. Think about her!" Dave shouted, his loud voice almost being lost in the sea of shouting citizens.

Santana looked down at the beautiful girl in her arms. She let her dark eyes trace over flawless, creamy skin and golden blonde hair. She had never seen anyone look so serene in their life.

"Get me a car," Santana demanded. "I need a car, I can take care of her."

"Santana," Mags suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "You need to take her to a doctor. She's not well."

"She's fine, okay? I can take care of her!" Santana screeched in the older woman's face. Mags retreated immediately, knowing not to push the topic. She slowly walked backward towards two security guards stationed with her.

"I need a car for the Puckerman boy, a car for myself and David and a car for Santana," Mags instructed with an undeniable sense of authority.

The military-like security officers nodded their heads, in sync, and ran off, in a march-like manner. She turned toward Santana, David and the unconscious Brittany. She was about to ask Dave to hold onto Brittany, because the girl had at least two inches and ten pounds on the short brunette, but when she saw the way Santana was gripping at the covered skin of Brittany's shoulders and thighs, she retracted.

A few minutes later, three cars emerged right below the stage. Mags led Santana, who was still holding Brittany in her tired arms, toward the first one. She dismissed the hired driver and helped load Brittany carefully and safely into the backseat. Santana slid into the front seat of the large Sedan-like car and shut the door. She rolled down the window, and stared at Mags. She tried to relay everything that she was too proud to say in that two second look.

"I'll gather her possessions. Have a safe ride to the train station, sweetheart," Mags nodded and smiled quickly, understanding everything that Santana was communicating and clapped Santana on the shoulder. Santana smiled at Mags quickly before shooting a quick nod of acknowledgement to Dave and driving off at full speed.

* * *

><p>Santana sped through the empty streets of her home district, racing to get to her destination. As she drove, her eyes jumped from watching Brittany's figure in the back seat of the large car to out her front window. She passed by familiar sights that plagued her dreams and lingered in childhood memories. The fishery. The elementary school. The small park. And then finally, her destination. The marina.<p>

She slowed the car to a full stop and parked the car on the gravel parking lot for the marina. She then pulled the keys from the ignition and left them on the seat for whoever was hired to collect the car. She opened the back door, silently, afraid to waken the slumbering beauty. She slid her arms under Brittany's knees and shoulders and slowly lifted her.

She felt much heavier than before, now that Santana had calmed down and was no longer in a state of shock and instinct. If it were any normal seventeen year old girl carrying a girl much taller than her in her arms, they would've faltered and probably would have not been able to accomplish the task. But Santana's time in the arena had done her well. The upper body strength and muscular tone had done her quite well and had never left her body because she was constantly training. As a result, Santana hobbled over to the edge of the marina and onto the oak wood planks of the dock.

She stopped at the second boat, a medium-sized boat with the faded words Mi Corazon painted onto the side. She carefully stepped off the dock and down onto the back of the boat, making it rock in the water. She laid Brittany down on the long cushioned seat closest to the stern of the boat. Then, she bent down and felt along the side of the boat until she pulled off a piece of the rubber lining. She dug out the emergency key wedged in the rubber and placed the rubber back on the side of the boat, before untying the rope that attached the boat to the dock. She sat at the seat designated for the driver and slid the key into the ignition. The boat roared, coming to life and she began to drive the boat away from the dock.

Santana stopped the boat's engine about twenty feet away from the familiar dock. She turned around in her seat, looking at Brittany, who was still sleeping soundly. She reached in a side compartment of the boat and pulled out a large fleece blanket. Her father had put the blanket in the boat when Santana was just a girl because she often complained about being cold, but never wanted to stay home on a trip. She remembered how he smiled his wide smile and his warm hands and his old jean jacket. Then, she heard Brittany begin to stir, so, bending down, she gently lay the fleece blanket on top of her.

As she was about to stand, she had a thought in her mind. It would only last a second, not even, but it felt as though different parts of her body were fighting to commit to this thought. She looked, in what can only be described as in awe, at the sleeping girl and leaned forward slightly. Her lips were hovering just a small fraction away from Brittany's. Just when she was about to reduce the space between their lips to nothing, she heard someone walking through the small field toward the dock. She stood, her cheeks heated as though she was embarrassed at what someone had almost caught her doing.

"Hey," she heard a smooth, sweet voice call out. "Do you want to bring her in?"

"No," she turned around to face her only friend from her treasured childhood, Quinn Fabray, the mayor's daughter. "It's okay."

"Okay," Quinn nodded assuring her, and jerked her head toward the huge house resting on a wide bed of green grass. "Let's grab some food before you leave."

Santana nodded and began to follow Quinn toward her extravagant house that made Victor's Village seem modest. As they walked back, she caught, out of the corner of her eye, a tall, dark man whisper something into his sleeve and nod seemingly into nowhere. She chuckled, dryly, at the man and ignored the rest of the security detail that lightly trailed them as the girls walked through the property. She never got over seeing the groups of local men working as security for the Fabray estate. They found themselves at two large French-style doors and once Quinn stepped in front of them, the doors were being pulled open by two men.

"Afternoon, Miss Fabray, Miss Lopez,"

Santana followed Quinn up the spiralling staircase and into Quinn's private bedroom. The extravagant room always had Santana in awe as a child. It had seemed like Quinn held the whole world in her bedroom. There were massive bookcases, lined with aged and faded tales of other lifetimes, a cherry wood desk with various notepads and sketchbooks stacked on top of it, and the thing that had always held the most splendour to Santana, a wide flat-screened television screen in the corner of the room. The television was the second to be in that same position, because Quinn had demanded that her father buy her a newer model when Santana was in the Games.

Santana remembered when she was younger and days were spent with eyes glued to the screen, watching old films of dancing and singing and freedom and happiness. She remembered how she would always wish that she could travel back to those times and be something like a singer, performing for crowds everywhere. But now, she laughed half-heartedly at her childhood ignorance and pushed that dream to the back of her mind. Quinn shut the large French-style doors to her room behind Santana and sat on her bed. She looked expectantly at Santana, who was now leaning against her desk with her arms crossed.

"It's not fair. It's not fair," Santana said, simply. "I- I did everything I could and now-"

"I know. I know, honey," Quinn reached her arms out toward the brunette and Santana walked forward, and sank in Quinn's warm embrace. Santana curled into Quinn's slightly longer body and slowly, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Just let it out okay, S?"

"I have to keep her safe, Quinn. I'm going to do anything to keep her safe in there or she is going to die." Santana sniffled and she felt Quinn's biceps tense at her words.

"Santana, I have to tell you something before you leave," Quinn whispered painfully.

Santana sat up in Quinn's arms, sensing the serious tone in her voice. Her eyes darted between Quinn's, searching for a hint to whatever was bothering Quinn.

"Q, you can tell me anything," Santana laced their fingers together and pulled them toward her lap. "You know that."

"If I tell you this..." Quinn started in a warning tone, "Santana, this will change everything."

"Quinn, what's going on?" Santana pleaded with her friend.

"I... Santana... I slept with someone six months ago," Quinn stated, attempting to be emotionless, and her usual icy facade would've worked, had her hands not been shaking. She began picking at a loose thread on her expensive comforter and Santana covered Quinn's hand with her own, trying to calm the girl's shaking hands.

"Okay," Santana drawled the last syllable, expecting more.

"I had sex with someone and now I'm late. Like really really late. Like if I'm not pregnant, I don't know what's wrong with me," Quinn clarified.

Santana's wild imagination immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. Images of the boys she'd seen around town grabbing Quinn and forcing themselves on her ran rampant in her mind. "What? Did someone-"

"No! But, Santana he..." Santana could see Quinn's inner struggle. What could be worse than her being with child, when she was still a child herself?

"S, he's Noah Puckerman. And I think I might love him."

And for the second time that day, Santana felt her heart stop. Santana was seldom at a loss of words and a loss of thoughts, but Quinn's words had her in an almost catatonic state. The situation would almost be comical, if it wasn't tragic. She looked down at Quinn's stomach, still confused. She saw that her stomach was still slim as ever, but she would bet her life that if she slid the blonde's shirt up, she wouldn't see much of the sculpted abdominal muscles that matched her own. She was six months into her pregnancy and wasn't even showing. She was six months into her pregnancy and going into her third trimester and she hadn't even told Santana. Santana tried to mask her hurt, but she knew that Quinn could see it on her face.

"I am so sorry, Santana," Quinn let her tears fall freely from hazel-gold eyes. She wiped at them furiously as Santana stared into nothingness, mouth open slightly. "I wanted to tell you, I really did, but my dad... He doesn't want anyone to know about how much of... about this."

Santana heard the unspoken words. He didn't want anyone to know about how much of a disappointment she was. About how much of a failure she was. She didn't care so much for Mr. Fabray, but she knew how crappy he made Quinn feel. He was the mayor and he thrived on appearances and reputations. A pregnant teenage daughter would seem like the end of the world to him. Santana ground her teeth together when she thought about how he must have told that to Quinn.

"I'm so sorry but I can't..." Santana said, more to herself than to Quinn. "I can't... I have to... Brittany..."

"I know. I know he won't come back." Quinn choked between tears.

Quinn's heartbreaking sobs finally broke Santana out of her stupor. She took in the sight of her usual strong, stoic best friend crying and mourning a boy who wasn't dead yet, but surely would be in a few months' time.

"Quinn, I promise you," Santana started, locking her trademark dark, mysterious orbs with wet, amber ones. "I will make sure he survives for as long as he can, but I won't- I'll make sure that he's alive long enough to see his baby at least once, okay?"

"Thank you," Quinn threw her arms around Santana and sobbed softly into the crook of her shoulder. Santana rubbed at the top of Quinn's back in soothing circles.

"Whoever said love conquers all was full of shit," Santana laughed bitterly and although the situation was nothing but humorous, Quinn had to laugh too.

"You give him this."

Santana felt something cool and metal being pushed into her hand. She pulled away from Quinn's embrace and opened her closed fist to investigate the object. It was a pin, meant to be worn on the lapel of a jacket. It showed a majestic silver fish, with its tail curved and an golden three-point triton crossing over it. The old Fabray family symbol. She looked up at her friend and nodded profusely. She stood up and gave Quinn one last hug before crossing the spacious room to the doors.

"Santana," Quinn called out. Santana turned around and met Quinn's eyes. The two girls were never the best at communicating feelings, but everything that needed to be said was said through that look. "Be safe."

Santana nodded once again and let out a scratchy, throaty goodbye and turned away from Quinn, not looking back once.

* * *

><p>Santana watched through the small, circular window as the familiar landscape of blue skies and bluer seas seemed to roll away from her in the distance. They had been on the train for about two hours now and Brittany had yet to wake up. She had been sitting on the worn, red armchair in the blonde's room for most of the trip. It had always brought chills to Santana's back thinking of how many girls had been in the very room she was in only to die a bloody violent death weeks later.<p>

It would be a lie to say that she hadn't been hiding away from Dave, Mags and especially Puck. She couldn't face him. Not when she was condemning him to death and forcing her best friend's child to be fatherless. Instead, she chose to watch the hills and the seas distance themselves from her, preparing the way for the invasive buildings and giant fortress that was the Capitol.

She occasionally looked back at the slumbering girl, who was curled up on the bed larger than anyone's, seldom a Victor's or the mayor's family's, beds back home. She looked so peaceful, too peaceful for the impending events. She shifted in her sleep and Santana felt her whole body tense. She slowly stood from the seat and began to walk out of the room. If anyone caught her in the room, she wouldn't know what she would say.

She slid the compartment door open and closed it slowly as she exited the room. She let out a breath of relief, and she turned to her right to walk to her room, between Mags' and Dave's. She found her path blocked by a dark, muscular boy who despite his size and height, had never looked more like a little boy than in that moment.

"I- I didn't mean to…" he spoke quietly. " You know..."

"Okay," Santana responded quickly. "You should- I'm going to my room."

Then Santana turned but before she could walk away he spoke again.

"I'm never going to see my baby, will I?"

It felt like her entire body stopped. She whipped around in surprise and opened her mouth, trying to gather words to answer him with.

"I- I'm…" She began to apologize, but then realized that an apology wouldn't help the situation at all. "No."

She walked away from Noah Puckerman, not turning back to look at the sad boy. If she had, she knew that she would break. So instead she calmly made her way to her room and shut and locked the compartment door. She got down on her hands and knees and crawled toward the edge of her bed. She bent lower and reached her arm underneath, patting the wooden frame until she hit something glass.

From under her bed, she pulled a glass bottle filled with vodka, an old alcohol and her favourite. She untwisted the cap of the bottle and tossed it aside. She swirled the liquid inside the bottle for a moment, as if contemplating her next move. But she knew what she was going to do. She threw her head back and drank a large gulp of the fiery liquid before moving it away from her plump lips to her lap.

"That felt good," she sighed, talking to no one but herself.

She thought about how the next few months would play out, but her mind felt blank. She had no idea what was going to happen. She didn't know how she was going to kill Puck, because even though she wouldn't be pushing a knife into his chest, she would ultimately be the cause of his death. She didn't know how she would teach Brittany, who wouldn't hurt a fly, how to kill someone and even if she succeeded, she didn't know if Brittany would ever actually kill someone when faced with the challenge. She did know one thing. It was the same thing that she always knew. Although no one knew, it was the driving force of her cryptic actions over the past three years. She needed to keep Brittany alive.

So she began to drink again.

* * *

><p><strong>I reposted this chapter because of a few things that were bothering me when I reread it.<strong>


	5. Why Don't We Go Somewhere Only We Know

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Five: Why Don't We Go Somewhere Only We Know?**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ** An anonymous reviewer talked some sense into me regarding my ten review a chapter thing. If you're reading this, you're right. I shouldn't really explain, but as someone who's struggling with getting into writing as a career path, criticism and feedback really helps. However, my way of trying to get some was wrong and you were right. I'm self-admittedly very proud and so I don't do this often, even in real life. I'm sorry if anyone felt blackmailed, as that was my intention. I'm dropping the cap and I will update once a week, regardless. As an attempt to make it up to you guys, I present to you chapter five. And to Hook1, I hope you're still reading.

* * *

><p>When the train came to a sudden stop, Brittany jerked forward in her seat on Kurt's bed. Her eyes darted around the room nervously and she began to drum her fingers on Kurt's bed spread. She heard a sort of hissing noise that was loud but also distant. She stood from her spot at the edge of Kurt's bed, which was now crinkled. She sped to the small rectangular window parallel to the cabin door and stood on her toes to look through it. All that she saw, was darkness.<p>

"Kurt?" she called and looked back, concerned. "Where are we? How did it turn to night so fast?"

"Oh honey," Kurt stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to sit. "We've arrived. This is just the train station."

Suddenly, the train started to move again, but so slowly that Brittany thought that she could feel every movement in her toes. She held on to the wall in support, her long fingers curved against the wallpaper. Then the train stopped again. She looked out the window again, but instead of the darkness that she had seen previously, she saw many giant greyish-blue buildings and in what seemed like the centre, there stood a building twice the size of the rest. She'd never seen anything so huge in her life.

"They call them skyscrapers," she turned to see Kurt putting away various items that had been spread around the room.

"They're huge," Brittany was awestruck. "I think my whole district could fit inside."

"Welcome to the Capitol." Kurt let out a dry chuckle.

Brittany stepped off of the train, with a bag in each hand, and looked out toward the blinding light end of the tunnel. The way the light shone and seemingly made a small halo out of the dark tunnel reminded Brittany of the sunsets back home. She felt someone touch her hand and she recoiled a little bit, in shock.

A tall young man with dark hair took her bags from her arms and placed them on a trolley. She was about to take her bags back from the silent vandal, but she caught sight of his light brown pants and green jacket, with a gold crest on the left breast and figured that he worked at the train station. She watched as the other passengers on the train, although only a few, handed their bags off to the tall worker without sparing another glance, except for Puck who nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, sir," Brittany smiled kindly. Her parents had always taught her to use her manners and be courteous to others. The man stopped arranging the bags on his cart and looked up at her in shock.

"Rumour is," she heard Kurt whisper in her ear, "They've had their tongues cut off. Crazy, right?"

"Why?" Brittany asked, confused and still looking at the tall boy.

"They're basically subjected to serve the Capitol for their whole life," Kurt explained as he adjusted his countless garment bags onto the trolley. "They'll never need to talk. Just follow orders."

The boy looked up at her again and Brittany gazed into heavy, brown eyes. This boy had a mother and a father and maybe even a brother or a sister. In another life, the life that Brittany had only heard stories about, he might've been an athlete or a singer or something. But instead, this boy that was probably the same age as her was being forced to be a slave to the Capitol for the rest of his life. It wasn't fair.

As if reading her mind, Kurt looked back up at Brittany with sympathetic eyes, "A lot of things here aren't fair Brittany. Don't trouble yourself with them."

* * *

><p>Although Mags was speaking, Brittany found herself watching Santana's movements in the lobby of the building that she would call home for her time until the Games. Santana was lazily leaning against a tall beam in the corner in the room farthest from Brittany. Brittany knew that Santana probably hadn't taken <em>that<em> into consideration, but it felt like she had. Her dark eyes would flutter shut and her neck would slowly give in to her exhaustion, lowering her chin toward her chest, before her eyes opened abruptly and she shook herself out of her exhausted state. This happened, Brittany counted, eight times, and each of those times, it brought a nostalgic smile to Brittany's face.

Brittany's bliss was interrupted by Kurt walking into her line of sight, flanked by two girls at either side of him. The girl on his right was a few inches than Brittany was, curvaceous and had dark skin and shoulder-length black hair. She seemed to hold an air of intensity about her and intimidated Brittany a little bit. The girl to Kurt's right was a short, thin brunette who seemed to be very perky and enthusiastic, judging by the way she had a tiny bounce in her step that Brittany noticed every time she would walk closer.

"Brittany," Kurt greeted. "These two lovely ladies here, are the other two parts of your three-person beauty team."

"Hey girl," greeted the black girl to Kurt's right. "I'm Mercedes, your makeup artist, and-"

"I am Rachel, your hair artisan," the other girl stepped in front of Mercedes and Kurt and stuck her hand out in front of her. Brittany took her rather small hand and shook it, firmly. "You should come with me. I need to assess your hair."

"But I-" Brittany tried to interrupt but the small girl dragged her into the colossal building, gripping her hand. Behind her, she could've swore that she heard Kurt and Mercedes laughing.

* * *

><p>"Brittany, was it?"<p>

As soon as they entered the building, Rachel had pulled her towards the elevator and hit the button for the ninth floor. The building, Rachel had explained, was the home of all tributes and their training and beauty teams until the Games and the floors worked in opposite order. District One was on the twelfth and highest floor, District Two on the eleventh, and so on. Rachel then showed her where her room would be, as her permanent smile faltered, and then dragged her to the large room shared by her, Mercedes, and Kurt. Now Brittany was sitting on a wide padded chair in the middle of Rachel's washroom, while Rachel stood leaning in front of her, studying the way her hair swept in front of her face.

"You have nice hair. Smooth and silky," Rachel muttered, distractedly as she ran her forefingers through strands of blonde. "Must be the salt water."

"Oh," Brittany said, awkwardly. "Thanks, I guess."

Rachel turned around and seemed to sift through the countless bottles of hair and skincare products that were piled on the counter. When she turned around again, she was holding two small bottles. She held the first one, in creamy white casing in front of Brittany's face.

"This will recreate the effect the salt has on your hair. Lather this on in the shower every morning and then rinse it off after a few minutes. It's not as good as the real thing, but it's the best we have."

Brittany nodded and took the bottle from her hands as Rachel held the other, in a light blue bottle, up.

"This one will provide your skin with the vitamin D that the sun usually provides. You won't be spending much time outside for a while now. Put it in right after you rinse out the other one."

"Thank you," Brittany said, half-heartedly. "Is that all?"

"Yes, for now. Though, Brittany, I have to admit I didn't expect you to be this pretty. Often times, when someone is spoken so highly of, the image of them is much more than the actual person, so I lowered my expectations but," Rachel paused to breathe and offered the first genuine smile Brittany had seen on her face all day. "You're just as beautiful as I've heard."

"What?" Brittany furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly, in confusion.

"You're very beautiful." Rachel repeated. "A different beauty than Santana though."

"Santana?" What did she have to do with this? Why would Rachel bring her up?

"Yes. Santana has amazing skin. Flawless, even. It makes Mercedes' job quite easy and they seem to get on pretty well because of it. She also has impeccable body. Skinny, but strong, and attractive curves, so Kurt had an easy time styling her too." Rachel nodded and turned around again, reorganizing her many hair products. "But Santana's one flaw is her hair. It's beautiful, yes, but she seems to be ethnically mixed, which resulted in her hair being very thick and sometimes difficult to manage. So I tend to spend the most time with her before events and such."

Brittany nodded, still not understanding where Rachel was going with what she was saying. It seemed like she was just rambling, but Brittany sensed that she was taking the conversation somewhere.

"Did you know that since the twentieth century, people have seen hairdressers as makeshift therapists? I'm not sure why, but even the most… volatile of people seem to be more vulnerable when I fix their hair," Rachel turned, leaned against the counter.

"I knew that," Brittany said referring to the historical fact. Rachel looked at her expectantly and Brittany added on to her statement, "But I don't understand why you told me that,"

"You'll come to learn that this whole Games isn't as simple as it seems. It's not all celebrity and glamour and money and free clothes. It's actually very complicated." Rachel said, seeming more and more like a teacher talking to a student.

"Everyone keeps saying that," Brittany muttered, trying to hide the exasperation in her tone.

"Because it is," Rachel said with a entertained smile. "You'll see."

Brittany opened her mouth to say something else but she was interrupted when the door to the washroom burst open. Santana stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob and the other leaning against the door frame.

"Rach, I-" Santana stopped mid-sentence. She sounded out of breath. Her eyes landed on me. "Oh, uh-"

She looked so beautiful, standing in the doorway. Her long hair was down in tresses and even though it was messy with little hairs straying around, it looked carelessly perfect. She was wearing a tight tank top that showed her taut stomach muscles, well-endowed chest and smooth toned arms.

"Brittany, I'm sure your needed downstairs. Tributes usually have their first training assessments now. You should go."

Rachel nearly pushed herout of the washroom and as Brittany walked passed Santana, their arms brushed. Brittany swore she felt a small shock of electricity travel through Santana's body and into hers. Right before Rachel closed the door on her face, she locked eyes with Santana and was overcome with feelings of intense desire.

"I-"She was about to open her mouth to say something, anything, but she found herself out of the washroom and the door was promptly shut in front of her. Brittany heard shuffling on the other side of the door and two voices, in light argument. She wanted to go back in the room and talk to, or even just watch Santana, but instead she dropped her head and left the room for her first training session.

* * *

><p>"That was fucking sick!" Puck exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. "How awesome was that, huh?"<p>

Puck and Brittany were walking to their elevators on their way back to their rooms. They had just finished their first skills assessment and Puck was elated because of the compliments he had received from Mags, who ran the session. She had put them through a series of tests, both mental and physical, like seeing how far they could run until they were out of breath, weird three-dimensional puzzles, and weight lifting. She also took a bunch of measurements and weighed them.

Puck had done very well on most of the physical tests and surprisingly, equally as well on the mental tests. Brittany had done well on most of the physical tests as well. Mags actually was very impressed by both her strength and cardiovascular endurance. On the mental tests, Brittany had done abysmal. It was very nerve-wracking for her, sitting in that little chair, trying to figure out how to get the arrow out of the tangled objects or trying to make a cube with those all those different pieces. To add onto the fact, she could hear Puck moving around beside her and Mags in front of them writing something on her clipboard. She never had done well under pressure.

"It was alright," Brittany responded, blankly.

They both stepped in front of the elevator and it opened automatically. Puck pressed a calloused finger to the button labelled 'IX', which they had both learned stood for nine. He leaned back against the handrail and ran a large hand through his thin Mohawk.

"I can't wait until we actually learn how to do shit," Puck sighed, wistfully. "Maybe we'll get to use tridents and shit."

"Yeah," Brittany said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Maybe."

Although she tried to put up a front that she was just as excited as Puck, she wasn't. She was disturbed, deeply. In a few days, they would be taught how to _kill_. Someone's son or daughter or brother or sister could die at her hands. She tried to fight the image of herself stabbing a knife into the blood-torn body of Kyle or Stacey. She suddenly felt sick and she didn't know how Puck wasn't feeling the same. She heard the familiar pinging noise announcing that the elevator had arrived at their floor. Puck stepped out of the elevator, still with a spring in his step.

"You coming?" Puck asked, expectantly.

"I just need a minute," Brittany said. Puck nodded and walked off towards his room.

The doors to the elevator closed and the only noise that was audible was Brittany's heavy breathing. She focused on calming herself down the only way she knew how. Sam taught her years ago that whenever she felt her heart beating really fast, she had to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth really deeply. So she did. She closed her eyes and began to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. The elevator doors opened again and Brittany looked up in shock. Dave was standing in front of the open doors, staring at her.

"I was just thinking…" Brittany tried to think of an excuse.

"XIII," Dave spelled out. "It's the thirteenth floor. It's a good place to… think."

He turned around and when the doors closed, Brittany apprehensively ran her fingers over the button labelled 'XIII'. After a few seconds of deliberation, Brittany pressed the button and she felt the elevator slowly begin to rise.=

* * *

><p>When the doors opened, a gust of cool wind hit her face, which was still warm and flushed from her assessment. Brittany stared at the short concrete walls and the sun setting into the sky that was above her. The roof. The sky was a warm tone of pinkish orange and the sun seemed to sink lower by the second. She stepped one foot out onto the roof and heard some shuffling.<p>

"Who's there?" Brittany said. She stepped out of the elevator completely and saw a familiar figure sitting on the ledge of the building. Before she could stop herself she flung her body toward the figure and wrapped her arms around them, pulling them toward her and off the ledge. They both fell toward the floor of the roof but Brittany held the struggling person in her arms.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Santana spat as she fought out of Brittany's arms.

"Don't jump," Brittany pleaded. Tears started to run through her tightly shut eyes. "Please don't jump."

"I wasn't jumping," Santana pushed Brittany's arms off her and rolled off the taller girl. She adjusted her top, the same one she had been wearing when she had walked into Rachel's washroom, and stood up. Her dark eyes traced the salty tears running down Brittany's face. "Fuck, I-I didn't... Don't."

Santana bent down and wiped Brittany's tears away, tenderly. Brittany felt that spark run through her body and judging by the way Santana pulled her hand away and returned to her standing position. Brittany sniffled and wiped her eyes.

"I just… I thought that y-."

"I wasn't," Santana looked at Brittany in a way that Brittany had never felt someone's eyes on her before. "I just… I like to sit there and think. It's like my private spot, you know?"

"Oh," Brittany sniffled again. "Sorry."

Brittany turned back toward the elevator when she felt a soft hand grab hers. She whipped her head around and saw Santana holding her hand. Santana looked like a deer in headlights. She immediately dropped Brittany's hand and stepped back.

"Just… Stay. It's okay," Santana made her way back to her previous position of sitting on the ledge and Brittany, entranced, followed her. She sat on the ledge, the cool concrete refreshing against her flushed skin. She tried to follow Santana's line of sight, but Santana was simply looking out into the distance. She caught Santana staring at her through the corner of her eye a couple times, mostly because Brittany was doing the same.

"You're going to teach me how to kill someone," Brittany broke the silence with the thought that had been plaguing her mind.

"Yeah," Santana nodded while avoiding her cerulean gaze.

"Have you?" Brittany asked her. She couldn't finish the question, so she just left it hanging, hoping Santana would understand her.

"Yeah," Santana drawled out the word and looked at her oddly. "The Games. Didn't you see?"

"No," Brittany answered and she felt her cheeks flush pink in embarrassment. "I didn't watch. I couldn't."

Santana didn't say anything after that and Brittany was grateful. Instead, she turned her head back to the horizon, which was darker because the sun had set.

"What are you looking at?" Brittany inquired, trying to follow her line of vision again.

"Home. Can you see it?" Santana smiled and Brittany felt like her heart was going to burst. Santana pointed out into the distance, but all Brittany could see were buildings.

"No," Brittany answered. "I can't see it."

"Neither can I. It's nice to pretend," Santana admitted. "But that doesn't mean that it's not there."

Santana turned to meet Brittany's cool blue gaze. Brittany saw as her eyes traced over her body slowly before meeting her own once again. When the sad chocolate brown eyes met her deep blue ones, Brittany saw something different in them. The pupils of her eyes were dilated and Santana looked… lustful. Brittany felt something inside her ache, knowing that a simple look over of her body caused Santana to feel that way.

Brittany bent her head and leaned closer to Santana. Their lips were mere centimetres apart and Brittany could feel Santana's breath on her. She saw Santana beginning to retreat, so Brittany shut her eyes and pushed her lips forward. She captured Santana's plump lips between her own and she swore, she felt heaven in that moment. She pulled away after a few seconds and licked her lips, tasting a hint of something sweet on her tongue. She looked up into Santana's lust-filled eyes and began to push her lips toward the brunette again, but was met with air. She opened her eyes in surprise and saw Santana stepping off the ledge. She began to walk toward the elevator and Brittany felt panic rising in her stomach.

"I thought about you every day since you left three years ago." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "When I walked to school or the pier where we used to go after school, but mostly… Mostly, I would think about you when I was sleeping."

Santana stopped moving at this point. Brittany saw her hands curl into fists and uncurl.

"I would dream about you and me and-"

Brittany's sentence was cut off by Santana's lips mashing against her own. They massaged against her own before pulling away and pressing quick pecks to her mouth. Brittany's hands found their way into Santana's thick head of hair and began to tangle themselves in long tresses. Santana pressed her lips to Brittany's again and Brittany felt something warm and wet trace along her lower lip. She opened her mouth eagerly and couldn't help the moan that came out of her when she felt Santana's tongue against her own. Santana pulled away and leaned her forehead against Brittany. Santana breathed heavily, as her fingers traced Brittany's face, as if she was checking to make sure she was real. When she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears.

"I missed you so fucking much."

* * *

><p><strong>So that was chapter five :) I hope you guys liked it as many of you were anticipating Brittany and Santana's first real interaction...<strong>


	6. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Six: You Can't Always Get What You Want**

**Ships: **Brittana with Pucktana, Puck/Brittany, Pezberry, Quinntana friendships. Minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note:** So I apologize for not updating last week, but it was my first week back from holidays. Needless to say, things were a little hectic so I hope you forgive me for that. I know many of you were excited about the kiss last chapter, so you'll probably be happy to know that this chapter picks up right after the end of the last one. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"I missed you so fucking much," Santana whispered against Brittany's lips. She felt as Brittany's lips turned upward slightly into a smile and pushed into hers again. She was suddenly hit with an immense wave of raw emotion that she hid been running from for so long. At that moment with Brittany, for the first time in years Santana felt lightness. She felt like she could kiss Brittany forever and just float away into another life. But at the very back of her mind, she felt a very familiar sensation. It was fear.<p>

She desperately kissed Brittany again trying to make that feeling disappear, but it was growing bigger, like a fire, inside of her. Brittany seemed to sense her desperation and instead, slowed her own motions causing Santana to feel the slightest bit more calm. Tiny goosebumps appeared all over her dark skin, not because of the slight breeze from their position on top of the building, but from the pale hands that were running along her arms and back.

She felt something warm and wet slide down her face, and for a brief second, she thought that maybe it had started to rain. Then she realized, it was a tear. Brittany must have felt it too, because she pulled away from Santana almost instantly.

"Are you crying? Did I do something wrong?" Brittany touched her lips, self-consciously, her eyes full of concern.

"No, I just- I-"

It took about a split second for Santana to see it. It was in the distance but travelling closer to them by the second. The moment she saw the large, dark plane-like object hovering in the distant sky she jumped away from Brittany. She ran toward the elevator and slammed her small hand on the button facing downward.

"Let's go!" Santana shouted at Brittany as her eyes widened in confusion. Santana looked toward the elevator doors that were still closed before running back toward Brittany and grasping long, nimble fingers. She pulled Brittany as they ran toward the elevator as the doors began to slide open. As soon as they were in the elevator, Santana pressed the 'close door' button repeatedly, as if she wanted to rush to motion. The doors slid shut.

Santana didn't say anything. She was breathing heavily and her eyes darted around the elevator, although it was hardly 10 feet wide. Brittany opened her mouth to try to speak, but Santana hushed her. She closed her eyes and listened. She heard as something large seemed to come closer, then on top of them, and then leave. Without another word, Santana leaned forward on her toes, hit the button to their floor, and waited.

Brittany watched Santana and waited for her to say something, anything. But she didn't.

The short ride in the elevator was silent. Santana was aware that she was probably scaring Brittany, because they had just kissed for the first time in three years and she hadn't said anything or even looked at Brittany for the whole minute-long elevator ride. She felt Brittany's blue gaze piercing the side of her face but she just shifted her eyes to the floor. The bell sounded, the doors shifted open. She heard Brittany open her mouth to say something, but Santana ignored her and set off, speed-walking down the hallway toward her room.

She couldn't believe what was happening. She was walking away from her. She couldn't even attempt to count the amounts of nights Santana had been unable to sleep because she was haunted with visions of Brittany. And now she was walking away from her. Arriving at her room, she ignored her and fumbled around in her pockets for her room key. She pulled it out of her left back pocket and slid it in the door. The latch clicked open and as Santana pushed the door open.

"Santana…" she heard from behind her.

She turned around to face sad blue eyes and a hopeless looking beautiful blonde girl. Brittany's hope, which had previously dwindled down to almost nothing when Santana hadn't so much as looked at her, seemed to have been reignited when Santana faced her. She took a leap of faith and walked forward, with conviction. When she was just inches away from Santana, she searched her eyes before dismissing any doubtful thoughts she had in her head.

"Don't- just," Brittany was almost begging. "Don't."

She wrapped a hand around the back of Santana's neck and pulled her toward her in a searing kiss. Brittany tried to pour every single emotion she was feeling in that kiss and Santana definitely felt it. It felt even better than it had on the roof. Santana suddenly felt safer than she had ever felt in her entire life. She felt like nothing could ever hurt her and that Brittany would keep her safe forever. When Brittany slipped Santana's lower lip between hers and sucked gently on it, Santana felt like she was floating in the sea back home. She could almost smell the slight saltiness in the air mixed with the smell of freshly caught fish off of her father's fishing boat. It felt perfect.

When Brittany finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against Santana's so that they were imitating the position they had been in just minutes before. Santana could feel Brittany's hot breaths on her lips and it was about driving her insane. But when she heard the familiar noise of a door opening and then closing quickly after, she was pulled back into her head.

"Brittany…" Santana began, but was quickly cut off by Brittany's lips pressing against her own again.

"We can't," Santana told her, between quick pecks, and Brittany shut her eyes and shook her head.

"Why?" Brittany demanded in a teary, emotional voice. "Why can't we, Santana?"

"I'm sorry, Brittany, but it's… It's complicated, okay?" Santana tried to explain, but the explanation only seemed to anger the usually-calm blonde.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? What's so complicated?" Brittany finally pulled her body away from Santana and, in frustration, she threw her hands out to either side of her body. She wiped at the corner of her eyes quickly, trying to stay strong for the conversation.

Santana didn't answer, and just shifted her eyes to where the carpet met the wall. Brittany took a deep breath to calm herself and ran her fingers through long sun-kissed blonde hair.

"I don't need… I just… I want you. You're all I've ever wanted, okay? It hurt me so much when I would knock on your door right after you came home and when I would see you sitting on your dock and you would just ignore me because I'm just some stupid girl and you're a big famous-"

"Don't. It wasn't- was never like that," Santana said in a loud tone immediately. "I-I've never cared about anyone the way I-"

"Well, it doesn't matter because you're not being fair. It's not fair that you kissed me on the roof at your secret spot and it's not fair that you told me how much you missed me and you're telling me that we can't. It's not fair that you're telling me that we can't do this and then say stuff like that. How do you expect me not to want to kiss you all the time when you're going to walk around, looking all beautiful with your stupid, soft hair and your sexy voice and your pretty face? And all because you're too scared?"

Santana opened her mouth and closed it several times. She could hardly believe the words that were coming out of Brittany's mouth. Brittany had always been a person who said what she really thought, but Santana seemed to have forgotten over the past three years because she was truly in shock.

"I'm sorry," she offered pathetically. "We can't."

Santana opened her room door again, entered her room and shut the door on Brittany.

"But I love you," she heard the blonde say through the wooden door. Santana let the tears fall from her eyes without reservations and tried to control her breathing as to not let Brittany hear her on the other side of the thin door.

* * *

><p>"<em>Santana!"<em>

_Santana whipped her head around at the familiar voice. Her eyes darted from side to side of the space that she suddenly found herself in the middle of. She was standing in the middle of a forest clearing. There were thick, green trees surrounding the clearing and a dark, almost black sky over her head._

"_San!"_

_She heard the voice coming from the part of the forest that was right in front of her. She ran forward until she was out of the clearing and running through thick jungle-like vines and jumping over plants and rocks to find the source of the voice._

"_I'm coming!"_

"_San!"_

_The voice was behind her suddenly. She stopped and at the back of her mind, she became very suspicious. The voice was in front of her and now it was behind her. Something was not making sense. She was apprehensive to leave back, but just for one second, because she could never ever not go after her. So she turned around and started running back the way she came. She saw the clearing ahead of her and saw a flash of flowing blonde hair._

"_Brittany!" Santana called out._

_She was almost out of the forest. She stepped one foot out onto the dirt ground of the clearing and it seemed like the world was moving in slow motion. Brittany turned around to face Santana and her features went from scared and worried to a smile of relief. Upon seeing the brunette rushing toward her, she opened her mouth to greet her. But Santana saw something familiar out of the corner of her eye. It caught in the moonlight, flashing into Santana's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach._

"_Brittany!" Santana screamed._

_Santana watched in horror as seemingly out of nowhere, a long, steel arrow pierced Brittany's stomach. A growing pool of blood showed through the blonde's previously white shirt and she began to waver on her feet. Brittany looked up, into Santana's dark brown eyes, and looked back down to the growing spot on her shirt._

"_Santana!"_

* * *

><p>"Santana, wake up!"<p>

The shrill, high-pitched voice awakened her with a jump and Santana shot up in bed in a cold sweat. She began to breathe deeply in an attempt to slow her fast-beating heart. She reached down for her blanket and pulled it up to wipe her face. She hated sleeping. She hated it. She pushed the visions of dream Brittany's death out of her mind just as she had done every morning for three years. She closed her eyes and willed the nightmares away. When she finally opened them again, she watched as Rachel ran around her room, carrying various items of clothing and shoving them into drawers around the room.

"Are you unpacking my stuff?" Santana asked incredulously in a tired voice.

"You're going to be late. Hurry up, get out of bed and into the shower," the shorter girl rattled off.

Rachel folded the last item of Santana's clothing and placed it in the drawer beneath the large television set neatly. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face Santana. With a gasp, she stepped forward and Santana leaned back on her hands on confusion.

"Y-your lips are chapped, your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is a mess," Rachel trailed off in a suspicious voice. "Did you have sex with Brittany last night?"

"What?" Santana's hands jetted to her face defensively. "No! What the fuck are you even doing in my room?"

"You did! I knew something was going on when I saw you two all close in the hallway yesterday! You slept with her!" Rachel pointed at her conspiratorially and then suddenly stopped. Her eyes moved around the room, uneasily. "Oh my God, is she still here?"

"I didn't have sex with anyone last night!" Santana shouted in exasperation. She pushed the hair out of her face before sliding out of bed and began to walk toward the bathroom. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower."

Santana made her way over to the bathroom, stopping only to pick three fluffy towels out of the linen closet. Rachel sat on her bed and watched as she took her time meticulously choosing three towels, although they were all the same. She began to slowly yet surely, piece together the puzzle. Santana's lips were chapped and Rachel had no doubt seen her kissing Brittany in the hallway the night before so it was easy to see how she quickly jumped to the conclusion that they had had sex. But they bloodshot eyes, messy hair and Santana's less than cordial morning greeting?

Santana stood, clutching the three towels and bathrobe in her arms and looked expectantly at the shorter brunette. Rachel, knowing a dismissal when she was given one, nodded and stood. Rachel found herself at the door of Santana's room, but not ready to leave just yet.

"Were you crying?" Rachel asked unsurely and a little bit afraid of the answer.

Santana was one of the strongest girls Rachel had ever met, physically, but mentally, Rachel knew that Santana was fragile despite the attitude that she showed other people. She didn't let people in often, but oddly enough she did talk to Rachel. She'd said once that Rachel reminded her of her best friend from back home.

"I… Can I just shower, Rach? I'll see you in a few, okay?" Santana turned to face Rachel, but avoided her eyes. Before Rachel could even say anything else, Santana entered the bathroom and closed and locked the door.

She twisted the metal knob in the bathtub and a jet of warm water began to spray from the shower head. She slipped out of her flimsy tank top and running shorts and tossed them to the floor in a small pile in the corner of the room. Avoiding her naked form in the mirror, she walked past the vanity and stepped into the stream of now hot water.

She knew she should probably hurry up, but she didn't want to ever leave the safety of that small space. She knew Rachel was right. She was going to be late. She didn't want to ever be present for the next few hours though, because in approximately twenty minutes, she was to teach Brittany how to murder another human being.

* * *

><p>Santana shook her damp hair out with a towel as she walked out of the washroom in a warm, fluffy bathrobe. She glanced over at the clock on her bedside table nonchalantly but quickly paled when she saw that she was already ten minutes late.<p>

"Fuck," she whispered as she quickly let the bathrobe fall from her skinny frame and land on the floor in a pile.

She ran over to her drawers where she saw Rachel emptying her clothes into earlier and removed a pair of clean lace underwear and a sports bra. She pulled the underwear over soft and toned thighs and pulled the sports bra over her head before adjusting her breasts into a comfortable position the sports bra. She ran over to her closet and pulled out the synthetic training suit that Kurt had designed for the Victors and Tributes the year before. She slipped the suit on and it seemed to melt into her body like a second skin. Then, she pulled on the boots that Kurt had made for her and strapped them on tight. Giving herself a once-over in the full length mirror beside the front door of her room, she swept her almost-dry hair over her left shoulder and opened the door to reveal a large, muscular figure.

"Fuck!" she shouted in shock. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Chill, girl! Puck shouted back at her. "I was sent to get you! You're late."

Santana stepped out of her room and Puck stepped backwards. She pulled the door closed behind her and shook the door handle to make sure that it was locked properly. She felt Puck's skeptical, judging eyes on her, but ignored them. She stepped back from the door and gestured for them to walk toward the elevator.

"Sorry," she said, swallowing her pride. "I've been a little bit on edge lately."

"It's cool." Puck nodded, swinging his hands at his sides. "Hey, at least you're not going into a literal bloodbath in a few weeks."

"You don't know what the Capitol's like for the mentors," Santana chuckled sardonically.

"And I never will," Puck said and Santana suddenly felt really guilty.

"I-uh-I," Santana stammered, uncharacteristically.

She cleared her throat and closed her eyes quickly. In that split second, she saw the baby in her head. It was a girl, in her head, because it just seemed fitting for Quinn to have a girl and because although all of District Four seemed to think that Puck was some crazy sex addict, Santana had remembered how sensitive he used to be when they were kids. She had tiny little wisps of blonde hair on her head that were the exact same shade as Quinn's but her eyes were this crazy shade of hazel that was almost gold with these little green specks everywhere just like Puck's. She was beautiful.

In that moment, she knew that she had to do something, anything for him. Even if she wouldn't help him survive in the arena, she had to make sure he could see his baby.

"What?" Puck said distractedly as he pressed the down button on the panel on the wall. The elevator bell sounded and the pair stepped in.

"She's not going to do well in the arena," Santana said blankly. "She doesn't like to hurt people and she definitely won't kill anyone."

"Yeah," Puck nodded solemnly. He pressed the button for the first underground level, where all of the training sessions took place.

"But you will. You're strong and with the right training, you can be just as strong as a Career," she said and looked at him with authority.

"Yeah, probably," Puck said, looking at her suspiciously. "What's up?"

"I want you to protect her in there." Santana turned to look at him. "Protect her and I'll make sure you'll see your baby."

"I can see my baby and Quinn if I live," Puck corrected. "I don't need to protect Brittany to do that. I can win and then I'll see my baby."

"You won't," Santana tilted her head to the side slightly. "That's where you're wrong."

"Are you threatening me?" Puck stepped forward, menacingly but Santana didn't sway.

The elevator doors opened.

"Think about it," she finished.

And with that, she set off down the long hallway with Puck close behind, her words haunting his mind.

* * *

><p><strong>So there's chapter six! I hope you all liked it :) Sorry it was so short, but I felt like that was a good place to end things. Next chapter is about 5000 words, though! I'd love to hear what you guys thought of the part after the kiss. Did you expect Santana to react that way? And I hope you all like the Pezberry friendship, because I personally love the Santana and Rachel dynamic. They're so similar yet so different.<strong>

**Oh, and also, how perfect was that Brittana moment in this week's episode? I mean, it wasn't nearly enough for me, but as a Brittana shipper, I've learned to be content with whatever the writers give us.**

**So review and tell me what you thought of chapter six!**


	7. It's Been Tearing Me Apart

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Seven: It's Been Tearing Me Apart**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note: **I'm not doing every single thing from the Hunger Games in terms of interviews, training, etc. I'll be doing a bit, but I think that in the earlier days of the Games, they would've done less so that's what I'm doing. Also, I'm making Careers come from only Districts One and Two.

**Anonymous Replies are at the end of the chapter.**

* * *

><p>Brittany looked around the Training Center, lost in her thoughts. It was huge. It was even bigger than the room that she and Puck had did their initial diagnostic testing in. The walls were all a sort of matte silvery colour and there were dim lights suspended from the ceiling. Rows of strange machines that Brittany had never seen in her entire life were lined up along one wall and different machines were lined up against the adjacent wall. There was a door immediately across the room from her and Dave was standing outside of it.<p>

"Brittany! Come in," Dave called. Brittany walked through the large room, staring at the various machines and suddenly feeling very intimidated.

He opened the door for her and stepped into the room after Brittany. This room was way smaller than the previous. The walls and floor seemed to be thinly padded with a material that was the same colour as the walls of the larger room and at the farthest corner from her, Brittany saw a tall, wide black cabinet. She turned to Dave, in curiosity, and for the first time, realized what the man was wearing. He was wearing a funny looking black and red body suit that seemed to cling to his broad shoulders and thick chest. Dave laughed at the expression on Brittany's face.

"It's made of some synthetic material and it maximizes something and let's your muscles do something," Dave smiled broadly, making his eyes wrinkle, and shook his head. "I'm not really sure what it does, but it helps. You'll be getting one soon, too."

"You look like a superhero," Brittany blurted out without thinking. Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked away from Dave in embarrassment.

"Oh man, it's a good thing it'll be just me and Santana today. Me, Santana and Mags dressed up identically? We'd look like a _league_ of superheroes," Dave laughed and threw his head back.

"That'd be pretty funny," Brittany admitted shyly, and finally looked at Dave when she felt her cheeks cool to their normal pale colour.

The huge smile on Dave's face and his rosy cheeks reminded Brittany of Santa Claus. He looked so carefree and happy, and not like a guy who killed twelve people at all. Brittany heard the door to the room open and turned her head to see Puck and Santana walk in together. Santana looked smug and Puck just looked uncomfortable. Did they take the elevator together? Did anything happen with them? Brittany's mind raced with the possibilities of things that were going on between Santana and Puck.

"_The point is she's not some fisherman's daughter, you know? She's probably got people everywhere throwing themselves at her and from what I hear about her, she probably welcomes them into her bed with open arms,"_

Sam's words echo in her head like he had shouted it from mountain tops. What if what he had said was true? Visions of Santana on top of random men and women flickered through Brittany's mind like an old black and white movie. All those rumours couldn't be true. Santana wouldn't do that.

"Alright," Dave clapped his hands together. "Let's get started. Puck-"

"Actually," Santana cut in, her voice low and husky. "I thought I could work with Noah today."

Santana hadn't even looked at Brittany since she walked in the room. Did she just forget everything that had happened yesterday? Brittany suddenly felt anger bubble deep in her stomach. Santana had kissed her yesterday and today, she was acting like she couldn't even see Brittany.

"Uh, Santana," Dave cleared his throat, sensing some tension. "I've already prepared some stuff for me and Puck, so you'll be working with Brittany today."

Brittany ignored Santana as she walked to one side of the room while Puck followed Dave to the other side. She looked up when she didn't see Santana's feet on the floor near her and saw her turning a key into the black cabinet. She pulled the key out and swung open the tall doors. Brittany's jaw literally dropped when she saw what was hiding inside the cabinet.

It was filled to the very top with weapons. There were long knives and wires and weird sharp objects. There was a trident similar to the one that she saw Dave thrust into the last remaining tribute's chest years earlier. Santana scanned the various items before bending down, picking up a small leather pouch and closing the cabinet doors.

She walked over to Brittany, playing with the leather pouch in her hands. Brittany wondered if Santana was swaying her hips slightly on purpose or subconsciously. Either way, Brittany thought she looked really sexy. She was mad at her, but she was still undeniably hot.

"You should train with this short knife," Santana said quietly as she unfastened the strings on the pouch and pulled out a knife. The blade was about seven inches long and had jagged teeth on one side. She rested it on a small table that was in front of her. "The results from your diagnostic say that you're a really fast runner and your resting heart rate is about 40, so you have the endurance to get away from anyone that you think is near. You have good enough instincts not to do anything foolish. You're flexible and strong enough to avoid flying projectiles. The only problems you'll have is if anyone comes real close to y-"

"Did yesterday even happen? Or was it just a dream? Because you haven't even looked at me today," Brittany interrupted her, brazenly.

"Don't you get it!" Santana had venom lacing her voice and Brittany recoiled. She had never heard Santana so angry at anyone. "Yesterday_ can't_ have happened."

"Look, I know I'm not as smart or as pretty or as rich as all those Capitol people, but-"

It was as if the words flipped a switch inside of Santana. Her face turned red and she was suddenly, for the first time in her life, yelling at Brittany. She kicked at the leg of the table in front of her and it flew into the padded walls. Puck and Dave were both staring, too shocked to even move. Brittany didn't know what to feel. She was shocked and taken aback because she would never expect Santana to react the way she did. Most of all, she was scared. She had never seen Santana that angry

"That's _not _what it's about, okay? So shut your mouth because you don't know a thing about it! I'm tired of e-"

"Girl, what the hell are you doing?"

Brittany didn't even notice Rachel, Kurt, and Mercedes enter the room. She could feel burning hot tears welling up in the corner of her eyes that were probably bloodshot from the lack of sleep she had gotten the night before. She looked back to see Santana still seething and shooting daggers from her eyes at Mercedes.

"Fuck off, Wheezy," Santana snapped. "I'm sick of peo-"

"Just go and take a walk or something before you go and do something stupid because you're already embarrassing yourself in front of everyone here," Mercedes pointed at the door with one hand and rested the other on her hip. "Go."

Santana seemed to understand that what Mercedes was saying was right and after a few seconds of deep breaths, she bent down and picked up the table that she had kicked. She was mumbling something, but Brittany didn't hear it because she was concentrated on making her tears stop welling up. She started to walk toward the door but stopped before passing Brittany. She opened her mouth, trying to convey her thoughts into words, but couldn't seem to. So she just gave her a sad gaze and continued toward the door.

Before she could leave the room, a man with a short, curly light brown hair. His smile was a little too big and he had these deep dimples, which probably could've been charming, but combined with his butt chin, were creepy. His brown eyes rested on Santana, who stopped dead in her tracks. Brittany couldn't see her face, but her body tensed up and her hands curled into defensive fists. His eyes were glued to Santana's covered chest but he look hungry as he traced them over the rest of her body and licked his lips.

"Hey, Santana!" The man clapped his hands and rubbed them together, enthusiastically. "Just the girl I was loo-"

"Not today, Will!" Santana snapped at the man, her voice dripping with disgust.

She shoved him aside with her shoulder and stormed out of the room. Will looked around the room, his eyes flitting between each person as if he was nervous for some reason. He chucked nervously and continued to rub his hands together.

"Uh, i-it must be her time of month or something," Will said in a joking voice. No one laughed.

"Yeah, it is, actually," Rachel said, her loud voice unusually quiet. She mumbled something after, but Brittany couldn't catch what it was. Judging by the reaction from Will, it probably wasn't very nice.

"What?" Will whipped his greasy head of hair around and his eyes were burning with anger. He took a menacing step closer to Rachel and her eyes widened in fear.

"Nothing," Rachel squeaked out and took a step back in an attempt to distance herself from Will. She seemed to shrink ten sizes. "I-I-I just- nothing!"

"I think Rachel was just saying that Brittany and Puck need to come and get ready for their first interviews. Isn't that right, Rachel?" Dave stepped in between them and seemed to puff out his chest, sizing Will up.

"Yes, of course!" Rachel squeaked again even more high-pitched. "Brittany, Noah, follow us, please?"

As Brittany walked beside Puck and followed Rachel, Kurt, and Mercedes out of the room, she felt Will's eyes on the back of her head and it felt almost predatory. She felt shivers down her spine and shook them off as she walked through the doorway.

"Rachel, who was that guy?" Brittany asked as they walked out of the Training Center and into the elevator.

"Will Schuester. He's a powerful businessman in the Capitol," Rachel said, her voice dripping with disgust. She pressed a button that Brittany hadn't even seen before. It was circular, like all the other buttons, but unlike the others, it was a metallic light blue colour. The elevator started to move, only it felt as though they were travelling horizontally.

Brittany processed the information in her head. It didn't make sense to her that a powerful, rich businessman would be looking for Santana. She tried to vocalize her thoughts. "Why was h-"

"Oh look we're here," Rachel said quickly, cutting Brittany off. The doors of the elevator slid open and Rachel pulled her out and down a long, wide hallway. Kurt, Mercedes, and Puck followed them.

As she walked through the hallway, she anxiously peeked into the first open door that she saw. There was a tall, handsome boy with curly brown hair and big brown eyes pacing back and forth in the room. He bent his neck to either side of him, trying to release some of the nervous tension in his bones. He started bouncing on his heels with the energy of a puppy, but stopped once he felt someone's eyes on him. He turned his head sharply and cocked an eyebrow at Brittany. He stepped forward and Brittany was suddenly nervous at the thought of talking to the boy, when he suddenly shut the door to the room in her face. She felt her cheeks redden instantly.

"I wouldn't worry about Jesse St. James. He's a Career and an ignoramus," Brittany jumped. She hadn't even heard Rachel behind her. She put her hand on her chest to steady her fast-beating heart. Rachel laughed and dragged Brittany down the hall with her.

"A what?" Brittany followed Rachel down the hall, past two more doors before Rachel turned into the one labeled '4' with a big picture of their District's seal on it. It was a small room with nothing but two spinning padded chairs in front of two vanities, two changing stalls, a closet and a large television screen. Puck was sitting on the farthest chair, eating a piece of bread that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Mercedes was kneeling at beside him and handing him various tubes and bottles of face creams and other makeup products from an unzipped bag on the floor in front of her. Kurt opened the door to the closet and began to sift through various articles of clothing.

"Ignoramus," Rachel repeated as she began to unload a box from the corner of the room. "He's absolutely deplorable. Cocky, self-centered, egotistical-"

"Basically, he's Rachel but a taller man version," Kurt quipped from behind the closet door.

"No!" Rachel snapped defensively as Mercedes cackled animatedly.

"You know that's a little bit true," Mercedes said to Puck between laughs.

"I meant 'Career'," Brittany corrected, while looking around the room at three laughing faces and one flustered one. "What is that?"

"Career Tributes," Rachel clarified as she gestured toward the remain chair. Brittany took the hint and sat in it, back straightened. "Basically, kids from the wealthier districts train their whole lives for the Games and then volunteer to go in."

"That's stupid," Puck commented, as he shoved the last pieces of the bread into his mouth. Brittany dug in her pocket to pull out a folded sheet of paper. She removed pictures of her parents and Kyle and Sam and lined them up on the shelf in front of the mirror.

"And technically illegal," Rachel continued. "But they have enough money to get away with anything. If they win, which they usually do, they're treated like heroes and given anything they've ever wanted. Especially Jesse, since he's the favourite to win."

Brittany's face paled at Rachel's words, but no one seemed to notice but Puck, He swallowed the big lump in his throat and tried to ignore the fear in his heart brought on by Rachel's words.

_If they do win, which they usually do…_

_Favourite to win…_

"Congratulations Rachel, you've scared the living crap out of them," Kurt announced. He stepped away from the closet and placed his hands on both Brittany and Puck's shoulders. He bent down so that he was at eye-level to the pair that were both sitting nervously. He offered a wide smile that made his eyes wrinkle and at once it comforted Brittany.

"Let's just focus on today," he told them.

The moment Kurt stood and moved back toward the closet, Rachel and Mercedes flocked over to them. Mercedes leaned in front of Brittany and began to massage a cream into her face. It was really relaxing and Brittany's eyes soon shut. She felt the wet cream quickly become absorbed into her skin.

"It's a good thing neither of you have lost your natural tan," Mercedes commented as she dusted some sort of powder onto Brittany's cheeks. "This will just give you a healthy glow."

She stepped back admiring her handiwork for a moment before leaning down in front of Brittany again and instructing her to sit still. Brittany felt a quick pain against her forehead, but chose to obey Mercedes and sit still. The quick pains went on for a few more minutes before she felt a cool wind being blown onto her face. Then, she felt a soft brush sweep across her the area around her eye and a dull point run along the edge of her eyelid.

"Almost done," Mercedes mumbled, absentmindedly. "Open your eyes."

Brittany watched in curiosity as Mercedes curled and applied a coat of black paint-like substance onto her eyelashes before stepping back and laughing, "Damn, I love this district and your perfect skin!"

Brittany was then ordered to go into one of the dressing rooms and put on the clothes that were inside them. She swept the long curtain to one side, entered the small space, and then slid it closed. She stripped out of her baggy training clothes, leaving her in just a bra and panties. She folded her sweats neatly and placed them on the floor. She saw a tiny bag on the floor and opened it. She examined the clothing inside the bag with furrowed eyebrows. She quickly deliberated which of the three members of the beauty team she should call.

"Uh, Kurt!" Brittany called out.

"Yes, honey," Kurt poked his head in the tiny gap in the curtain. He seemed unfazed by the almost naked blonde in front of him, which was exactly what Brittany was hoping for.

"The clothes in here," she gestured at the bag. "are hardly anything. It's almost less than what I have on right now."

"Yeah," Kurt nodded. "You need to do a hair removal treatment first. Just get in them and then come out to the hall where I'll be waiting, okay? Go in the closet for a robe if you want one."

And with that the young man left her alone. Apprehensively, Brittany shed the little that was remaining of her clothes and pulled the tight black short shorts and bra on. She poked her leg out of the curtain and then her head, and when she saw Mercedes and Rachel working on Puck, she scurried out of the dressing room and to Kurt's closet. In her rush, she missed the brunette that was standing in the doorway, staring wide-eyed.

She was in awe of the dozens of dresses and suits that were tucked in the small closet. She looked at each one, admiring the sequins and cuts and delicate fabrics. She had sifted through about five or six outfits, when Kurt poked his head in the doorway.

"Brittany," he called out and Brittany's head whipped to him like a deer in headlights. "It's at the bottom."

But Brittany didn't move. Her eyes were glued to Santana standing in the doorway. She hadn't even noticed her there. Santana's eyes were just as wide as Brittany's and seemed to be staring straight at her chest. Embarrassed, she bent down quickly and scooped up the fluffy white robe in her arms. She untied it and quickly put it on, securing the belt tightly. Her cheeks were still red as she walked by a speechless Santana and to Kurt.

"Follow me," he led her down the hallway past rooms labelled for each district and stopped in front of a door labelled 'laser treatment'. He unlocked the door with a key on a spiral bracelet around his wrist and pushed the door open. The room was empty except for a small chair in the corner of the room and a large machine that looked like a futuristic white coffin, but with an opening at one end. Kurt pressed a few buttons at the side of the machine and it hissed open. Brittany looked at it apprehensively.

"Don't worry," Kurt shook her off, seeing her nervous look. "It's safe."

"I don't know," Brittany trailed off. "It doesn't look safe…"

"It _is_, Brittany. Trust me," Kurt looked at her expectantly. "A billion people have come in and out of here completely unscathed. Santana's done it, too."

At the name, Brittany's head perked up not unlike a dog and she slowly began to lay down on the machine.

"Scoot your head up," Kurt said and Brittany obeyed. Kurt tucked a small white pillow under her head. Brittany swallowed the lump in her throat. "Just relax, okay? Take a nap."

And so, Brittany closed her eyes and let sleep invade her.

* * *

><p>"<em>And the first place winners of the national cheerleading championships are…"<em>

_Brittany's grasp on Santana's hand tightened and the other girl squeezed back in response. They stood at the very front of the large group of cheerleaders from McKinley with their coach slightly to the left of them. Both of their heads were lowered in anxiousness and although she couldn't see her, Brittany knew that Santana was probably chewing on her lower lip._

"_For the seventh year in a row, the McKinley High Cheerios!"_

_Brittany squealed in excitement and turned to Santana to hug her best friend. Santana had this wild, crazy look in her eyes and this wide smile that made her whole face squish together in the most adorable way. Santana placed her arms on Brittany's shoulders and jumped into the taller girl's arms. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and buried her face in her neck as legs were wrapped around her lower torso._

_They both knew that they were being shown on national television at that very moment, but neither one cared. The entire world seemed to melt away for a brief moment before Brittany felt another hand on her shoulder._

"_The world is watching ladies," She heard her coach whisper in her ear. "Put Jugs the Clown on the floor and smile for the camera."_

_As Santana slipped out of her arms, she carefully interlaced their fingers and hid them behind their bodies as she gave her winning but fake smile to the camera. She faked a loud laugh at something Coach said and side-bumped Brittany, letting her know she should do the same. Just a moment ago, Santana was in her arms and not caring that the entire county could be watching. But just like that, the moment was ripped away from them and Brittany swore that she could kill their coach._

* * *

><p>Brittany's eyes traced Puck's figure on the large television screen in front of her. She was back in the room labelled '4' alone, sitting on the padded chair rotating left and right, but otherwise not moving much because Rachel had threatened to maim her if she were to mess up her 'pristinely done hair'. She was just wearing that fluffy white robe and nothing else because Kurt said she could wait until Puck was done his interview to put on her dress.<p>

She eyed the garment bag that was hanging from a hook at the top of the closet, curiously. She wanted to see her dress. Badly. Kurt hadn't told her anything about except for that it matched Puck's outfit. She glanced up at the television screen to see Puck in his light blue tuxedo with black lapels, lighter blue shirt and black bowtie. She had muted the sound, but she knew that the crowd was undoubtedly having their pants charmed off but by the tall, dark, and handsome boy.

"Hey," she heard a quiet familiar voice from behind her.

She slowly turned her head and saw Santana leaning in the doorway. She wasn't wearing that suit anymore, just a tight off-white tanktop with thin black stripes running horizontally and a zipper running halfway down the middle, an even tighter deep blue skirt with a thick black stripe along the bottom, and high heeled boots that made her legs look longer than they actually were.

"Hi," Brittany said shortly, crossing her arms. Santana looked really good in her outfit, so Brittany turned her attention back to the screen. She was still mad at the other girl for blowing up at her earlier that day for seemingly no reason. She heard Santana's boots clacking against the porcelain tiles on the floor until the sound was right behind her.

"I'm sorry for yelling earlier. It wasn't fair to you," Brittany turned her head to face Santana who was searching her face for some kind of reaction. "I- A lot of things are different now and I can't just… do stuff with you anymore, okay?"

"Why?" Brittany confronted. "Unless you don't want to..."

"I do want to, of course I want to." Santana jumped in when Brittany paused.

"Look, if you have a girlfriend or a boyf-" Brittany started off as she uncrossed her arms and let them fall at her sides.

"No," Santana was almost too quick to interrupt. "I could never."

"Well, what is it then?" Brittany said louder, getting frustrated.

"There are consequences now, okay? It's not like before where we can kiss and go swimming and read books in your attic and sleep and do it all over again the next day." Santana was careful not to raise her voice after the incident that morning, but she still showed her frustration through her body language. She took a cautionary step back and kept throwing her hands around everywhere except for when she ran them through her dark hair.

"Consequences?" Brittany's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm a girl, right?"

"Because I care about you!" Santana shouted now, not bothering to hold her voice or her anger back.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Brittany exclaimed.

"Ladies?"

Both girls stopped their yelling and turned to face the doorway. A pink-faced Kurt was half-in the room, as though he was unsure if he should even be there. Santana sighed, shut her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

"I was just going to help Brittany into her dress," Santana said to Kurt.

Kurt nodded, obviously not believing any of what Santana was spitting out. Santana walked to the closet and unzipped the garment bag. She pulled out the most beautiful dress that Brittany had ever seen. It was a long and shimmering blue and green gown and it looked like a-

"Mermaid," Brittany murmured in amazement. The light hit the dress in all the right ways. Little specks of light were strewn across the room.

"That," Kurt clapped his hands in delight. "Is exactly the reaction I was looking for. I can only hope the audience feels the same way."

Kurt pushed Brittany into the change room excitedly and took the dress from Santana. Brittany slipped out of the robe and held it out of the curtain in her hand for Kurt to take. The robe was taken, but the brief feeling of lacquered nails against her hand told her that it wasn't Kurt who took it. Santana's hand slipped in through the curtain and held the dress up. Brittany took it from her and began to slide it onto her body.

"What exactly is this interview for?" Brittany asked, directing the question to Kurt.

"It's for Panem to get to know you," Kurt called out.

"More like, for the people of the Capitol to decide whether they like you enough to sponsor you," Santana spoke huskily. She was right outside the change room. Brittany slipped her feet into the intimidating heels that were already in the small room.

"That's why Noah's working the charm," Kurt laughed again. "Brittany, I have to get Puck but your interview starts in ten minutes, okay? Just walk down the hall we came from and turn the opposite way of the elevator. First door on you left. Good luck!"

She heard light footsteps fade away and assumed that Kurt had left the room. She swept the curtain open and held her hair up. Santana gulped visibly and Brittany turned around to reveal her bare back.

"Can you zip it?" Brittany said, biting on her lip.

Santana didn't answer but Brittany soon felt Santana's warm breath at the back of her neck.

"Don't do anything to impress them today," Santana said, still right behind her.

"Why?"

She had just heard Santana say that sponsors were going to be watching. If she didn't impress the sponsors, then they wouldn't send her stuff. Brittany remembered a few years ago how a boy from District Seven survived completely off of food and weapons that his sponsors had sent him. Brittany needed sponsors.

"Just don't okay. I can get you sponsors, so just don't worry about it. Some people aren't very trustworthy."

Brittany wanted to say no. It didn't seem like a good idea, after all. Those people could keep Brittany alive if she impressed them that much.

"Okay," She said instead.

She felt Santana let out a deep breath against her neck and then zip her dress so that it was secure. She turned around and met Santana's gaze. She watched as Santana tried to say something, but no words came out of her mouth. Her eyes kept jumping to Brittany's lips. Santana leaned forward and gently kissed Brittany's cheek. Brittany wanted to just move her head kiss her back, so badly, but Santana pulled away quickly almost like she knew what she was thinking.

"There's really no one else, okay?" Santana whispered, as she tucked a stray hair behind Brittany's ear. "I just really need you to know that."

Brittany nodded, not trusting her voice and left the room, the only sound being the unfamiliar one of her own heels clacking against the floor.

As she walked out of the room, she bumped into a fumbling boy with a dark red afro which contrasted with his pale skin. He was holding a tiny machine up to the door and let out a tiny squeal when he saw Brittany. He started to stutter something, but Brittany just ignored him.

Her mind was plagued with thoughts of Santana. She had never been so confused of anyone in her entire life. Santana had yelled at her earlier that day and then apologized and then kissed her on the cheek. Brittany was tired of Santana's constant switch between moods. Brittany wanted Santana and judging from the last thing Santana said to her, Santana wanted Brittany. It was such a simple concept. If two people want each other and there's nothing stopping them, they should be together.

For a split-second, Brittany thought about giving up on Santana. She had ignored her for years, after all. But something inside of her compelled her not to. It was like a supernatural force from inside her was drawing her toward Santana. She couldn't give up on her.

She walked toward the elevators and saw Puck walking out of a room and shaking the hand of a tall thinning man. Puck waved her over and cocked his head at the door, directing her where to go. Right before she was about to walk into the room, Puck stopped her.

"Hey Brittany," he called out. "Smile for the camera."

* * *

><p>Also, I'm really sorry for not updating sooner. I've been doing my semester one exams for the past two weeks so I had a lot of exam review and studying to do. I tried to update the other day, but it wouldn't work and I'm not too sure why. Anyways, thanks for reading and I'd love for you to review.<p>

**Anonymous Replies**

**Mackie92: **Right now, Brittany and Santana haven't really had a chance to just talk. Every time they do, it's pretty heated, whether it be an argument or their kiss. Brittany's reasoning for volunteering comes up in an upcoming chapter in which they have a moment to just talk and be Brittany and Santana without being Tribute and Mentor. Sorry, that I haven't addressed it yet, but I feel like they both have a million and one problems and Santana wouldn't really think about it until she has room to breathe, so to speak.

Thanks to everyone that reviewed, including my anonymous reviewers Juju, Mackie92, DxLynn, MyMilkshakeIsBetterThanYours, Banana pancakes, Ur name here, bicorn, Anon and Emily.


	8. It's Not That Easy

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Eight: It's Not That Easy**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note: **I'm really sorry that the updates are slowing down, but my semester is definitely harder than my last. I just have a lot less time to do anything, including write. I'm trying to write as often as I can, but it's tough with the courses I'm juggling. Anyways, I figure better late than never, so here's chapter eight.

* * *

><p>Santana watched as Brittany walked out of the small room, struggling with how her new heels felt on her feet. She smiled fondly, remembering how Brittany loved to walk barefoot whenever she could and how her mother would scold her and tell her that she would hurt herself. She suddenly thought of where Brittany was headed and became very nervous. She prayed that Brittany would only listen to what she had said. The last thing that she needed were any sleazy rich sponsors and Santana prayed that she wouldn't try to get any.<p>

She was broken out of her daydream when she heard a high-pitched squeal that sounded like a pig being slaughtered. She stayed quiet and looked around the room, hoping to locate the source of the noise. The sound didn't come again, so Santana cautiously stepped out of the room and into the hall. She turned her head to the right and saw Puck talking to a balding business executive named Sandy Ryerson. She narrowed her eyes in disgust when Sandy placed his hand on Puck's hand and let out the fakest laugh she had ever seen. She saw a flash of dark red in the corner of her right eye and she darted her head to her right. With a squeal identical to the one she had heard minutes before and the short red haired boy jumped in fear.

"Jacob!" she cried out. She glanced down at the small handheld camera in his hand pointed inside the room. "What the f- How long have you been here?"

"L-long enough to know that you told someone has a little crush on their blondie Tribute," he stuttered at first but soon gained confidence when he saw that Santana's eyes widened and mouth narrowed into a thin line. He recognized her fear immediately. "Just wait until the good citizens of the Capitol hear about this."

"No, you can't," Santana tried to say forcefully, but it came out weak and strangled. "Please don't."

"It's my duty as a journalist to tell the people what they want to know," Jacob said, his scratchy voice sounding dignified. "And the people will definitely want to know this."

"Jacob," Santana pleaded with him. "Come on, don't."

"This is good stuff. A Mentor and Tribute affair. I don't see why you're so defensive over this one," Jacob raised an eyebrow. "You've never had a problem with your exploits being public before."

Santana's stature immediately changed when she saw him challenging her. Her eyes darkened and narrowed at the same time. Her teeth were grinding together, almost audibly and she put her hands on her waist. The change in her face was almost animalistic.

"Do you know who I am?" Santana challenged and Jacob took a step back and gulped. "I'm Santana fucking Lopez and I will rip your fucking-"

"Whoa, back off!"

Puck stuck his arms out in front of Santana and pushed her back into the room. Santana was seething as the muscular boy pulled her into the room and kept his arms wrapped tightly around her like a vice grip. She struggled in his arms, now waving her arms and legs violently at Jacob who smirked at her before scurrying off. Puck shut the door and released his grip on Santana.

"What the fuck?" Santana shouted at Puck. "Get your hands off of me, Puckerman."

"Chill!" he put his hands up, showing that he didn't mean to harm her. He stepped back, leaving about a metre of space between them. "Who was that guy anyway?"

"Jacob Ben Israel," Santana grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest. "He's a slime-bag reporter and he was recording me and Brittany talking."

"Oh shit," Puck mumbled, with a guilty look on his face. "I didn't know."

"Whatever. I'll deal with him later; it's fine," Santana pushed the hair out of her face. It wasn't really fine.

"Okay," Puck said, still uneasy. "Look, I was thinking about what you offered this morning."

"And?" Santana was suddenly interested. She crossed over her arms and leaned on one leg.

"I'm not doing it. Dave thinks I have a lot of potential and so does the interviewer guy and I just talked to this awesome guy Sandy who just off-" Puck began listing off the reasons when Santana held a hand up in from of him.

"Okay, let me stop you right there. Sandy Ryerson," she raised an eyebrow. "Is a predatory gay. I saw him feeling up your bicep out in the hall."

"He's just a nice guy," Puck defended, his cheeks flushing pink as his own suspicions were proven correct. "Whatever. He's offering to sponsor me so why should I care? I can win this thing with his help."

"Don't you want to see your baby?"

"Are you threatening my child?" Puck stepped toward Santana, challenging her.

"Fuck, no. I love Quinn, okay," Santana said exasperatedly. "I just… If you win, you're probably never going to see your kid. If you make this deal with me, then I can at least guarantee that you will."

"What? That doesn't even make sense," Puck said, frustrated.

Santana sighed deeply and rubbed at her temples. She knew what she had to do, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to do it. She had been put in this dilemma often, lately. But she knew that the only way to get Puck to really trust her, would be to tell him the cold hard truth. She hadn't ever told anyone before. Quinn knew, but Santana didn't tell her, but besides her no one else knew the truth.

"Do you know what happened to my parents?" Santana began slowly.

"Yeah," Puck nodded, not seeing the point that Santana was trying to prove. "Everyone knows. Your parents were out on the boat and they capsized."

"No," Santana shook her head, laughing bitterly. "Someone did something to their boat because I chose not to co-operate with what the Capitol wanted."

"What? No, it was on the news. They capsized," Puck shook his head and restated his previous statement.

"You think two people from our district, let alone a fisherman and his wife would drown at sea? Really, do you?"

Santana could feel her throat choking up and cleared her throat. It had been months since she last pushed the thought of her parents out of her mind and like always, thinking of them was painful, almost unbearably so.

"That doesn't make sense. Why would anyone do that? Just because you didn't do something?" Puck furrowed his eyebrows.

"They wanted me to do something that I didn't want to do," Santana told him. "And if you win, they're going to try to get you to do it and when you don't, because trust me, you won't, they'll make you."

"Make me?" Puck was confused and intrigued, simultaneously. "How?"

"They'll go for your mom and sister first and they'll keep going until there's no one left you care about," The words started spilling out her mouth and once she started, she couldn't stop. She needed to do this. "If you think that they'll think twice about killing the Mayor's daughter, you're wrong. If you think they'll think twice about killing a baby, you're wrong again."

"You're lying," Puck spat, angrily.

"I'm not fucking lying," Santana spat back. "It fucking happened to me."

"Well, I can protect them," Puck countered. He was strong enough to protect his family. "That's my family. I will protect them."

"If you really love them, they're better off without you."

"Just because my dad was a tool, doesn't mean shit. I'll be a good father." Puck barked.

"That's not what I mean. I just mean that the only way you can protect them is if they don't need anything to be protected from."

Santana knew that she was allowing her emotions to get the best of her, but she couldn't help herself. She was pretty sure that Puck had caught on to her little slip up, because reading his diagnostic file proved that he was probably just as perceptive as she remembered him to be. There was a change in his facial expression after a few seconds of blank stares and she knew that he knew.

"That's why you stopped talking to Brittany," Puck acknowledged. Santana's lack of an answer was confirmation enough for him.

"They killed them while I was on the train home," Santana lamented. She didn't want to tell him, but she needed to. "And when I found out, I knew it wasn't an accident so I did what I needed to do."

"So you just ignored Brittany and then they didn't go after her? That's seems so simple."

"It's not. If you survive these Games, you're their pawn. You're going to end up doing what they want you to do anyway so you just shouldn't argue," They both knew she discovered that the hard way, but left the statement open. "Staying away was just a precaution. I couldn't risk anything."

"What did they make you do?"

Santana ignored his question.

"If you help her survive, I'll make sure you'll get to see your baby and I'll make sure your baby knows who you are," she ensured him, putting on a comforting voice.

"How is that even going to work? Is that even allowed?" Puck's voice was scratchier at that point and Santana recognized that he was becoming teary-eyed. She chose not to acknowledge it though, because she knew that he was just as proud as she was.

"Anything is allowed. And I'll make sure it happens. Quinn means a lot to me, too. I'll make sure that it happens for you and her." Santana said. "You know, sometimes you do things for the people you care about even if it hurts you."

Santana could see the metaphorical cogs turning in Puck's head. He was weighing the pros and cons and possible things that could go wrong with trusting Santana. When he looked back up at her, tears were shining in his eyes freely and Santana knew his answer before he had a chance to vocalize it.

"Okay,"

His answer was reluctant, uneasy and distrustful, but it was an answer that she was looking for. She nodded and pressed her lips together in a thin tight line before averting her gaze from him to the television screen in front of her. She watched as Brittany seemed to float onto the screen and waved at the audience in a shy yet sweet way. She felt the edges of her lips turn up in a slight smile. Her plan was set in motion.

* * *

><p>The curtains of Santana's room were open and although it was past midnight, the night sky was littered with bright colourful lights. The people of the Capitol never slept. The interviews and introductions to the Tributes had just ended and surely now, the businessmen were selling other people's souls and the younger people were out wasting the night away on pills and alcohol.<p>

She was standing behind the huge window that overlooked a particularly busy area of the Capitol. Her cell phone was in her hand and her eyes were on the LCD screen of the phone. She kept pressing her fingers against the touch screen to call a certain contact but then pressing the back button right before the call went through. She was afraid.

Her mind jumped to the words that she had said to Puck earlier that day when trying to convince him to basically die for Brittany and his family. _Sometimes you do things for the people you care about even if it hurts you_, she had said. Her words now drew chills up her slender back, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and goosebumps appear on her smooth, tanned arms. In no way did she want to do this. But she needed to.

She pressed down forcefully on the touch screen and raised her cell phone to her ear. She felt her pulse quickening as the call went through. After the second ring, a man answered the other line, out of breath and almost like he had ran to answer her call.

"It's me," she spoke into the phone.

"_What can I do for you on this fine evening?" _the man asked in a sleazy and low tone.

"I need you to get rid of whatever Jacob Ben Israel has on me," Santana asserted as she kept her eyes on a blinking light in a building straight ahead of her.

"_Of course," _she could practically her the grin on his face. _"Anything else, my dear?"_

"Sponsor Brittany Pierce. Don't make a spectacle of it, but during the Games, send her whatever she needs," Santana rattled off immediately. She knew she was asking for a lot, but she was counting on him.

"_Why should I do that?" _the man inquired. _"She has no shot of winning."_

"Because," Santana shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. Her next words were going to be physically painful for her to say. "I'll make it worth your while."

The man on the phone didn't say anything but Santana didn't need the sound of his heavy breathing to know that he was still on the line and considering her offer. She heard him inhale sharply before exhaling again. This was it.

"It's a deal."

The line went dead.

* * *

><p>Santana stood in the small room in the Training Center, sorting out weapons for Puck and for Brittany. Today was the morning of their second training session and first full one, and it would be the first time she would see Brittany since her interviews the week before. She was content because Brittany actually listened to what she had said. She had been really quiet and shy and awkward in her interview, just giving one word answers and not joking around or anything like the others did.<p>

Honestly, Santana was doubtful that Brittany would obey her. She had thought that Brittany would react like Puck and see sponsors as necessary for her survival in the Games, but she was glad that she hadn't. Now everyone would leave her alone.

Mags slipped into the room silently and waved a quiet hello to Santana, who just nodded her head in acknowledgement. She sat on the single chair by the table that Santana had unleashed her anger on the day before and pulled a book from her handbag. She folded one leg over the other and began to read in her own little world.

When Dave walked in the room in his matching synthetic suit, he goofily grinned at Santana and tossed a bright blue folder over to her and then to Mags. She looked at it and flipped through the papers it contained, curious to see what Dave had chosen for their first real lesson. _Kill strikes_, she noted as she flipped through familiar looking pages of curved knives and diagrams of pressure points on the human anatomy. Her stomach lurched thinking about the impending next two hours and how it would affect Brittany. Brittany could hardly stand to eat a fish if she saw it being caught. How could she possibly kill someone?

"Are you sure it's a good idea to start off will kill strikes?" Santana carefully planted the doubt in Dave's head. She moved closer towards Dave and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm just saying because we hardly got anything done last time."

"And who's fault was that?" Dave retorted. "You know that no one likes the first few minutes of this lesson, but you know better than anyone how fun it could be."

"I got carried away," Santana scoffed. "And that was our fourth session. I just think we should wait until we know them better."

"What's this really about?" Mags inquired. "From what I've noticed, you seem to know them pretty well."

"Look, it doesn't matter because we're prepared for kill strikes and they're here now so there's no turning back," Dave ended the conversation as the Tributes toed into the room, evidently nervous because of the previous day's session.

"Welcome, Tributes. Today, you will be taught about kill strikes." Mags announced after Dave and Santana didn't take the lead.

She nodded to Dave, signalling an action and he nodded back before leaving the room. He returned shortly with a life-sized human replica. Santana recognized it immediately as their usual training models and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. The lifelike form always seemed to creep her out. Mags looked to Santana expectantly and Santana moved from her position on the wall and walked toward the table. She picked up a leather sheath and pulled the weapon from inside.

Brittany's big blue eyes seemed to widen to twice their size when she saw the knife. It's blade was about six inches long and two inches wide. One edge was smoothed and straight and the other was curved and jagged messily. It was Santana's weapon of choice and the one that she had used in the arena. She sauntered over to the immediate left of the training dummy and held her knife to face level.

"Kill strikes are points on the body that, if you stab or slash hard enough, will kill your enemy within minutes or even. I'm going to show a few examples and then we'll teach you the proper techniques for each," Santana stepped behind the dummy and grabbed it by its neck, making it lean back onto her. She took the knife and drove upward into the dummy's torso, between ribs. She looked over the shoulder of the dummy and saw Brittany and Puck both jump in surprise.

"Through the ribs and up," Dave explained. "It'll puncture a lung and maybe, if you're lucky, hit the heart."

Brittany's faced turned stark white as she watched Santana yank the knife out of the dummy's torso and move to the front of the dummy.

"A quick slash around the neck," Dave said as Santana traced a line from one side of the neck to the other. "Will cut open the carotid artery and the jugular vein. It's not an instant kill, but they're not going anywhere, trust me."

Santana wiped her knife off on her leg, although it was so clean that it was shining and Brittany cringed. She watched in horror as Santana stabbed the lower torso of the figure, jerked sideways, twisting the knife, and pulled it out horizontally.

"That'll release bile into the anatomy. It seriously fucks shit up."

It was alarming to Brittany and even to Puck how nonchalant Dave was being about everything. They were practically watching Santana tear apart someone. Although she was just demonstrating on the dummy, her face didn't change as she repeatedly stabbed it. She wasn't bothered by it at all and judging by the fact that she didn't even break a sweat, she wasn't doing half of what she was capable of.

"And the last one we'll be covering today," Dave drawled off.

Santana walked behind the dummy again and bent down slightly. She slashed a diagonal line in its upper thigh and slightly twisted the knife as she dragged it through the fake body.

"Femoral artery slash. It'll kill your target in about three minutes tops."

Santana calmly slid her knife against her leg again before sheathing it once more and sliding into her belt.

"I'm going to go and get your dummies," Mags said, rubbing her hands together. "Santana will provide with a few weapons to see which ones you fare best with."

Santana watched as Brittany and Puck reluctantly walked over to her. Her eyes flickered to Brittany's lower lip, which was trembling ever so slightly. Brittany saw that Santana noticed it and immediately drew it between her teeth. Santana sighed because she had told Dave that neither of the pair was ready for this. She looked past the various knives on the table and rested her eyes on the rubber training knives. She held out a long rubber knife that looked like a machete to Puck and one that was similar in size to her own to Brittany.

"We'll start with these," Santana said and Puck let out a deep breath and reached forward, taking the fake weapon in his hand.

Brittany, however, didn't move. Her eyes were glued on Santana's sheathed knife. Santana followed her line of sight and nervously tilted her body to the side. She quickly glanced at Brittany's hands and saw that her fingers were shaking. She looked up into Brittany's blue eyes and saw that tears were beginning to form. She looked up at Mags, who was talking to Puck, and Dave, who was setting up the dummies on two sides of the room.

"Brittany," Santana trailed off. "Do you want to maybe do something else today?"

Brittany nodded and her unshed tears fell to the ground in large droplets. Santana put the fake knife back with the rest and took Brittany's hand in hers. She felt the quickening pulse beating through Brittany's body and rubbed her thumb along the back of Brittany's hand comfortingly.

"Okay," Santana whispered in a barely audible yet tender voice. "It's okay. We'll do something else."

She grasped Brittany's hand tighter and led her out of the room, ignoring Mags calls and Dave's questioning glances. She knew she probably shouldn't have done it, considering Mags and Dave's ever-growing curiosity, Jacob Ben Israel's sudden interest in Brittany, and Will Schuester habit of 'checking up on her', but she didn't care. When she heard Brittany stop sniffling and tighten the firm hold that Santana had on her, all the doubts flew out of Santana's head and she continued to lead her away.

* * *

><p>This chapter was kind of short compared to the last, but I'd still love to know what you all think. Also, I was messaging one reader and we started talking about the meaning of the story's title. I want to know is where you think the title comes from, besides the awesome song by the xx. Thanks to my anonymous reviewers, Mackie92, from-me-to-you-ale, and Youhoo.<p>

PS- If Google really tracks your search history, I'm going to have a tough time explaining "places to stab for instant death".


	9. For You, There Will Be No More Crying

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Nine: For You, There Will Be No More Crying**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note:** Wow, so this is really delayed and I'm sorry for that. Long story short, life got in the way.

* * *

><p>Brittany gripped onto Santana's hand and followed blindly as Santana led her out of the room. She heard Dave, Mags and Puck call out to them, but she did nothing but bowed her head to hide the tears and let Santana guide her away from them. She had tried to hide how shaken she was from watching Santana do that demonstration, but judging by Santana's reaction, she had failed.<p>

The way Santana stabbed that dummy scared Brittany. She imagined blood and internal organs spilling out of the body cavity. She imagined the last look on the imaginary person's face when they took their last breath. The worst part for Brittany, was not imagining herself being ripped apart, but imagining Santana doing it. The way Santana tore into the dummy was almost carnal.

"Hey," Santana whispered quietly, when she saw that Brittany was lost in her thoughts. "You okay?"

"Y- No, I just… I don't want to k-" Brittany stopped. She couldn't even finish the sentence without having the urge to throw up. "I don't want to learn that."

"I know," Santana smiled sweetly and Brittany felt a comforting squeeze from the hand that Santana had entwined in hers. "I'm going to take you somewhere else, okay?"

Brittany nodded and Santana lifted up her other hand. Brittany watched as Santana's slim fingers gravitated toward her cheek and brushed the tears away. The heat radiating from Santana's fingers seemed to travel throughout Brittany's body and made her feel better instantly. The moment lasted a second before Santana took her hand away smiled again, bringing a matching one to Brittany's previously somber face.

"Come on,"

Santana led Brittany to the other side of the Training Center, to a room that Brittany hadn't even noticed. When she stepped inside she saw that it was different from the rest of the rooms. The walls were painted a warm deep red colour that contrasted from the rest of the grey and chrome theme of the Training Center. There wasn't much in a room besides a carpet, two comfortable looking couches, and a stack of books that were piled on a floating bookshelf. Brittany immediately felt comfortable.

"No one really uses this room," Santana said as she walked toward the bookshelf and began sifting through the books. "It's for anyone who gets too pumped. You know, adrenaline and all? If anyone gets crazy violent toward anyone else, you just throw them in here for a few minutes to calm them down. It's locked from the outside so we're kind of trapped in here until someone comes to look for us."

Santana turned toward Brittany with a wide, joking grin on her face, but Brittany wore a different kind of smile. She was biting the side of her lower lip and grinning. Somehow being locked in a room with Santana and two couches didn't seem like the worst idea in the world.

"Thanks," Brittany said, looking at her feet. "For making me feel better, I mean."

"We haven't even done anything left," Santana pointed out.

"I know," Brittany nodded. "But still."

Santana smiled again and Brittany felt like her heart was about to start palpitating. Santana finally picked out three books from the shelf and sat, cross-legged on the smallest couch. She looked up at Brittany and patted the space beside her, invitingly. Brittany complied without any reservations and found herself copying Santana's pose, right beside the brunette.

"I still have to teach you something," Santana thought aloud. "So I grabbed a bunch of books that'll help with survival and stuff. You know, building fires, knowing what plants are safe to eat, that kind of stuff. I figure that's a better place to build from."

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. Santana slid two of the books onto the floor at the foot of the couch and opened the first one. It smelled a bit musty and judging by the way the edges of the pages were yellow, it was pretty old. Santana flipped to a page with a diagram of a tree and Brittany shifted closer to her, her hair creating a canopy as she leaned over slightly to look at the page.

"That tree has water flowing through its trunk," Santana explained as she pointed to the picture. "So if you were to drill a hole in the trunk and find a way to get the water out, you'd have a clean source of water."

"I thought that there's water in the arena's," Brittany furrowed her eyebrows and thought back to the last time she had watched the Games.

"It's not always safe for drinking and trust me, you don't want to take a chance with that," Santana shook her head reminiscently. "Sometimes they taint the water and stuff. It makes for a more entertaining Games."

"That's horrible," Brittany mumbled under her breath. "Did that happen in yours?"

"Yeah, it wiped out about seven people," Santana nodded. Brittany was a little taken aback by the lack of emotion attached to her statement. "I keep forgetting you didn't watch."

Brittany suddenly felt guilty. She didn't want Santana to think that she didn't want to watch her because she did. It killed her every single day to not know whether or not Santana was okay, but she would rather live in darkness than see her mangled body so close yet so far from her. So she didn't watch. She had the sudden urge to find an excuse for why she didn't watch, but instead only the truth came to Brittany's head.

"I thought you were going to die," Brittany blurted and she felt her face flush red. Her heart started racing and Brittany was sure that Santana could hear her heart pounding. "I didn't want you to but I couldn't watch, just in case."

"It's fine. I wouldn't…" Santana hesitated briefly. "I wouldn't have wanted you to watch it anyways."

Brittany watched as Santana flipped the page with her dominant left hand. Her eyes travelled from the tips of Santana's fingers, across the faded, discoloured page and to her right hand which was resting on Brittany's thigh. She wasn't sure if Santana realized what she was doing but Brittany definitely didn't do anything to stop her. It felt familiar and yet so foreign, but comforting nonetheless.

Brittany wanted to place her hand on top of Santana's and was fighting every nerve in her body not to. She could feel her hand being pulled toward the other girl's. As Santana began to explain the function of a certain plant that could be found commonly in the area, a metaphorical light bulb turned on in Brittany's head. Brittany leaned back, distributing her weight to her right hand and reached her left hand over Santana to point at the plant.

"So that," Brittany rested her pointer finger over the image of the plant. "Has nutrients and stuff in it?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded, biting her lip in thought. "I mean, it tastes like dirty water but it has enough to get you through."

"Oh," Brittany said quietly and suavely, pulled her hand away from the book and rested it on her thigh, mere centimetres away from Santana's hand.

She bent over the book again, pretending to get a look at the plant in better detail and slid her hand over slightly so that a few of her fingers grazed the back of Santana's hand. Santana's popped her head up in surprise and looked at their touching fingers. Brittany knew that Santana could read the shamefully embarrassed look on her face. She caught Santana's eye and saw a mischievous glint in her pupils.

"Smooth," Santana commented with a cheeky grin on her face and Brittany felt her face redden.

She shrugged nonchalantly and gently laced their fingers together. Brittany thought that her jaw must have literally dropped. Santana had been resistant to what little physical contact that they had experienced at that point, and now she was initiating it. She thought it might've had something to do with the fact that they were literally locked in the room but she pushed the thought away and entertained herself with the idea that Santana was comfortable around her.

They stayed in the position for a while. Their fingers were loosely united and whenever Santana leaned down to take a better look at the book, Brittany would look away from the page and admire Santana's profile. She looked really beautiful; the way her forehead would crinkle whenever she was confused; the gentle sloping of her nose; the slight rouge that seemed to always be present in her cheeks. Every so often Santana would catch Brittany looking and her eyes would dart up to Brittany, who would immediately shy away and read again.

About thirty minutes into Brittany's little leering session, she realized that whatever Santana was saying was probably important for her. So she ripped her eyes away from Santana and to the book, soaking up each piece of information like an eager sponge. As she filled her mind with details about poisonous berries disguised as edible ones, she heard an uneasiness in Santana's voice begin to develop. She stopped talking about the berries abruptly and began to play with the curling corner of the page.

"About yesterday-"

The door to their safe haven burst open and Brittany jumped in surprise. Mags was standing the doorway watching as Santana scrambled, tearing her hand out of Brittany's. The book that they were looking at fell to the floor as Santana stood up and suddenly found herself standing five feet away from Brittany. Brittany looked at Santana, hurt reflected in her soft blue eyes before averting her gaze altogether and looking at the floor.

"You're done for today," Mags said in a steely voice that Brittany didn't recognize. "Noah is waiting outside for you."

Brittany stood up at the authoritative tone is Mags' voice and began to walk towards the door. The older woman had always seemed like a kind motherly figure, but the harsh tone in her voice betrayed that perception. She turned back to say something to Santana, but her mouth just opened and closed pathetically and Santana did nothing but cross her arms over her chest. Brittany could feel the tension that had entered the room when Mags opened the door, but she didn't want to leave Santana.

"I'll catch up with you later," Santana mumbled and ran her fingers through long, dark locks.

Brittany nodded forlornly and exited the room. She could sense the impending argument and couldn't help but feel guilty. She knew that Mags was upset with Santana and she knew it was her fault. She internally cursed herself for not being able to do what Puck did. She saw the look on his face when he watched Santana. He was just as disturbed as she was. The difference between them was that he was brave enough to stick it through and learn something that would undoubtedly save his life in the future at the price of ending someone else's. But she couldn't.

"Hey," Puck greeted when he saw her.

He was slouched against the wall adjacent to the doorway of the room that Mags and Santana were undoubtedly arguing. He straightened when he saw her and returned her greeting.

"How was your training?" Brittany asked politely although she wasn't sure that she really wanted to hear about it.

"Pretty cool," Puck shrugged nonchalantly. "Dave taught me some cool shit."

"That sounds… Cool," Brittany replied awkwardly. It didn't, but she didn't know what else she could've said.

"Not really actually," Puck admitted, folding his arms over his chest. "I was kind of freaked out by it."

"Why'd you do it then? Santana could've taught you survival stuff too," Brittany said immediately.

"No, she wouldn't have," Puck laughed like he knew something that she didn't.

Her mind shot back to what Sam had said what seemed like lifetime ago. Sam was wrong and Santana had told her so. She thought of the few times when Santana would venture into town and the stares she would get from people. Puck's words were like a trigger. He was wrong and so were the rest of them.

"No, everyone thinks she's a bad person but she's not," Brittany argued, her face getting hot. "If she was a bad person she wouldn't have took my place and she wouldn't have taught me all that stuff because I didn't want to learn how to kill people. Bad people don't do good things."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean she hasn't done bad things, too. Don't be so blind, Brittany."

Brittany felt her throat dry up and her heart pump faster. He didn't know her. None of them did.

Brittany turned around swiftly, ignoring his harsh words and marched away from him and toward the elevator. Don't cry. She repeated it like a mantra in her head. They were all wrong about her and Brittany felt like the only person who knew the truth.

* * *

><p>She pressed at the up button and soon after a bell sounded, indicating that elevator had arrived at the floor. The doors slid open effortlessly and Brittany saw a boy around her age sitting in a wheelchair at the right side the elevator. She felt bewildered, not because the boy was handicapped, but because now that she thought about it, she had never seen another Tribute besides Puck yet. She stepped in the elevator and shakily smiled at the boy. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts, a white t-shirt that read, 'District Three' and framed glasses that sat atop his nose. He was another Tribute, the first one that Brittany had encountered.<p>

"What floor?" He asked amicably.

"Nine," She said after clearing her throat. The familiar whirring sounded and the elevator slowly ascended the shaft.

"I'm Artie," he smiled and Brittany was taken aback by the boy's friendliness. He gestured at his shirt with a hand. "I'm from District Three."

"Brittany from Four," Brittany said trying to match the boy's tone.

"Nice to meet you, Brittany from Four. Did you just come back from training?" He maintained his polite and amicable tone and Brittany thought she was going to snap.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Brittany blurted out. Artie didn't look surprised at all. He simply smiled and nodded. "I just- I mean, what's the point? We talk and then soon, one or both of us is dead right?"

"If there's one thing I learned, it's that life is short and this whole Games thing only makes it shorter," Artie said, with wisdom beyond his years. "Let's face it, I'm not going to survive one day in the arena. Not in this chair. But life is too short to lose the person I am to try. The person I am says 'hi' to people he meets in elevators and he tries to comfort people when they look like they could burst into tears at any second. I know I'm going to die, but I'm going to die as Artie, not some bot that the Capitol turned me into."

The elevator arrived at the ninth floor and the doors slid open.

"Don't forget that, Brittany from Four," Artie called as Brittany walked out of the elevator and into the hallway.

She turned away and saw the boy wave at her with a crooked smile on his face. She raised her hand and the doors slid shut. Brittany looked down at her feet and suddenly was hit with a wave of emotions. He was so optimistic and accepting and wise. He knew he was going to die and accepted his cruel fate. Brittany, on the other hand, had flirted with death too many times. She was saved from death from Santana only to throw herself into death's waiting arms for Stacey. She started jogging down the familiar hallway, passing her own room until she was at Santana's door. Without thinking of potential consequences, she raised her fist and started banging on the door.

"Hello," she heard the vaguely familiar voice behind her say.

She whipped around and saw the curly-haired business man that interrupted her first training session. He was wearing a tailor-made suit with the letters 'WS' monogrammed on the left breast. He seemed to trace her body with his eyes and Brittany shifted. The man had a certain air about him that made Brittany feel uncomfortable.

"I'm Will," he thrust his hand out in front of him and Brittany looked at it suspiciously. The man hadn't done anything for Brittany to logically be suspicious of him, so she shook the hand firmly. "You're Brittany Pierce."

Brittany nodded and he smiled toothily.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard much about you, Brittany," Will said. Their handshake was long over, but he still held onto her hand firmly. She felt shivers run through her body.

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"How've you been doing with tr-"

"What are you doing here, Schuester?" Santana narrowed her eyes at the man, who immediately let go of Brittany's hand.

"Just catching up on some business," Will answered. Brittany saw his wandering eyes rest on Santana's torso and Santana cross her arms over her chest. She uncrossed them a few awkwardly silent seconds later and dug a key card out of her pocket. She held it out to Brittany and nodded at the door.

"Go inside," she said.

Brittany didn't want to leave her. Will was a whole new level of creepy and the way his eyes were carnally focused on Santana's chest didn't sit well with Brittany. She didn't trust him. She looked at Santana's deep brown eyes. Maybe, it was one of those times when people say one thing but mean another thing. Santana's eyes looked troubled and sad and a little bit scared, so Brittany held her position.

"Brittany," Santana spoke softly. "Please go inside."

Santana's gaze was pleading, almost begging for Brittany to obey her. Betraying her intuition, Brittany nodded and took the card key from Santana. She swiped it through the reader and opened the door. Looking once more at Santana, who seemed to be staring down the older man with a certain conviction, she shut the door behind her.

* * *

><p>Brittany was lying in the middle of Santana's huge bed, staring at the ceiling, when she came into the room. At the sound of the door opening, she sat up immediately and watched as Santana double-locked the door before looking through the peephole.<p>

"Why was that guy looking for you?" Brittany asked as Santana approached her. Santana sat at the very edge of the bed with her back facing Brittany and began to take her boots off.

"Just business stuff," Santana said carefully as she tossed her boots towards the door.

"So why did he need you?" Brittany asked. "I thought you said they weren't trustworthy."

"They're not," Santana reaffirmed but quickly changed the subject. "Why are you here, Brittany?"

Brittany had almost forgotten what had happened in the elevator. Santana turned into a cross-legged position and was facing Brittany.

"I met a boy in the elevator," Brittany said, not really knowing where to start. "He was another Tribute but he was in a wheelchair."

"I've heard of him," Santana acknowledged. "He's the guy from District Three, right?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "I just… He told me that he was going to die and he was just so free about it. I just got thinking, you know. I don't want to die but I don't want anyone else to die. It's stupid, but… It's not fair. He was nice to me and he's already in a wheelchair. It's not fair."

"No, no, it's not stupid," Santana sighed, shuffling closer to Brittany. "Don't blame yourself for being human. Don't blame yourself for being caring about whether or not people die. You might be the only one here that does."

She was right in front of Brittany now and the pads of her fingers were stroking the soft skin of Brittany's arm, comfortingly. Brittany let her tears fall freely at Santana's words. She remembered that whenever she used to cry, her mom would scoop her up in her arms, sing softly in her ear and then take her out to the port to look out at the water. But she couldn't do that. Her mom and home and the port were miles and a lifetime away. Now she had her cold, pristine room and a building bigger than anything she'd ever seen before.

She felt warm, tiny arms wrap around her torso. She tucked her head underneath Santana's chin and into the crook of her neck. No, all she had wasn't just a room and a big building. She had Santana and that rooftop she had really found her. Soft hands ran up and down her back, sending tingles down Brittany's spine. She felt comforted but the tears were wracking through her body more intensely than before and it didn't quite make sense to her. She started to hiccup as the tears continued flowing down her cheeks.

"For you," Santana sang in a quiet and scratchy voice. "There will be no more crying,"

Brittany's tears seemed to calm down at Santana's beautiful but unused voice.

"For you the sun will be shining,"

She remembered how they snuck up to her attic one day and found the old record player amongst her grandmother's tired old possessions. She remembered playing that old vinyl record filled with cheery guitars and practiced, passionate voices and how she and Santana stood around dancing and talking for what seemed like hours. Most of all, she remembered the last song on the first side of the record.

It was slower than the rest of the songs and only comprised of a voice and a piano. She remembered how Santana's eyes would light up whenever they got to it and the way she would hum the song for days after listening to it. It was always her favourite song. Santana kept singing and although her voice cracked in certain places, it was undoubtedly the most beautiful three minutes and twenty seconds that Brittany had ever experienced in her life.

Her eyelashes began to flutter shut and her previously hysterical body had calmed down to slow tears as Santana rocked her back and forth in her arms. She didn't want to sleep. She wanted to stay awake forever and listen to Santana sing, but her body betrayed her. She let sleep take over her body, too tired to fight it and drifted off listening to Santana's shaky but strong voice.

"And the songbirds are singing like they know the score, and I love you, I love you, I love you like never before."

* * *

><p>"<em>And I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all, I wish it from myself,"<em>

_Brittany watched as Santana's expression changed from calm to anguished in a split second. She felt tears suddenly spring to the corners of her eyes as she listened to Santana's powerful voice strain with emotion. She was literally on the edge of her seat, gripping on to the sides so she wouldn't rush over to the shorter girl and envelop her in long pale arms. She really wanted to though, so badly, but she didn't want to interrupt Santana's singing._

"_And the songbirds keep singing like they know the score, and I love you, I love you, I love you like never before."_

_Santana's posture relaxed as she reached the end of the song. The silent pianist hit the chords with impeccable skill and an intensity matching Santana's, but to Brittany, he wasn't there. To Brittany, she and Santana were the only two people in the entire world._

"_Like never before," Santana sang out as the final chords sounded._

_She smiled, trying to keep her composure, but Brittany could see the glossiness of her eyes. Brittany didn't know how to describe that experience, but she knew that she would never forget it. Santana had said, well sang, that she loved her. It wasn't in front of everyone, but the piano guy was there and that was enough progress for Brittany. She was so happy with Santana, so carelessly happy that she could hardly speak. When she did open her mouth, only one word came out that seemed to describe her feelings, not only in that moment, but for all eternity and in all other universes._

"_Beautiful,"_

* * *

><p>So that's chapter nine :) I was having a real big debate with myself in my head on whether or not to put the whole Songbird thing in, so let me know what you think!<p>

Also, I think I might need a beta... If anyone is interested PM or message me on Tumblr if you don't have and FF account. My url is troutymouth.


	10. You'd Do Anything For Me

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Ten: You'd Do Anything For Me**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Re-posted because the line breaks were irritating me... Also, if you haven't watched the Hunger Games yet, watch it. Right now. Seriously. It's amazing. And watch Glee on Tuesday too because Brittana and a sex tape and dancing together. And a Naya solo for the first time since Back to Black. And Brittana is street clothes. Do you really need any more incentive? **

* * *

><p>"Like never before," Santana finished singing the last line of the song. She could almost hear that old dusty record player sounding the last few notes of the song.<p>

Santana carefully raised one of her hands to wipe the stray tears from her eyes. Fuck, she wasn't supposed to be crying. She was supposed to be comforting Brittany. But she really couldn't help her tears because when a beautiful, amazing girl breaks down in your arms, there isn't much else you can do. She had tried to be strong for Brittany, but it really was exhausting sometimes.

She felt Brittany's head droop down and the wrap of Brittany's arms around her loosen. The girl had fallen asleep. Santana carefully maneuvered out of Brittany's grip, careful not to wake her, and lay her down in the centre of the bed. She reached for a pillow and gently lifted Brittany's head, sliding the pillow underneath and then pulled the blanket from under the blonde's slumbering body slowly, before pulling it over her.

Brittany was right. That boy didn't deserve to die. None of them did. Santana wished that she had taken Brittany up to her room instead of letting her go with Puck. Maybe if she did, then Brittany wouldn't have met that boy. But she did and now all of this was real to her. The impending death, the blood, the betrayal and murder was no longer something Brittany saw on television. It was a reality and one that Santana tried to protect Brittany from.

Brittany shifted to the right in her sleep and Santana smiled fondly as her nose scrunched up and her eyes seemed to tighten. She mumbled incoherently and brought her arms closer to her chest and Santana immediately thought that maybe Brittany was subconsciously looking for her. She chuckled bitterly, shaking the thought out of her head.

Santana kneeled beside the sleeping girl and moved a few wisps of light blonde hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. She gently traced the crown of her head with her fingers, so lightly that she almost wasn't touching her.

"I'll be back, okay?" She whispered the question. She was answered with peaceful silence and a quiet grumble.

She really didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay there holding Brittany for hours. But she had business to attend to. Without another word, Santana put on her long grey peacoat and knee-high boots and slipped out the door.

* * *

><p>"Hey midget," Santana called out to a short concierge with more hair gel on his head than Santana had ever seen in her life. "I need ticket for the bullet train."<p>

She rested her forearms on the concierge desk and waited unexpectedly. The boy's big brown eyes opened wider and he nodded, his slicked back curls bouncing up and down. He tapped at a holographic screen for a few seconds before looking at Santana with regretful eyes.

"I'm sorry miss. It's eleven at night. The last train of the day left half an hour ago,"

"Listen here, Blaine Anderson," Santana read the name off his name tag patronizingly. "I need to be somewhere, so you're going to lose that ridiculous bowtie and find a way to get me where I want to be."

"Right," the concierge stuttered and Santana smirked. Her intimidation techniques always worked.

He tapped a few more buttons on the screen before a tall, stumbling boy came in through the doorway without speaking. He was handsome but had sad eyes even darker than his raven-coloured hair. He was wearing a dark green jacket with a gold crest on it and a somber expression on his face. Santana's eyes traced the gold crest and upon inspection, she realized he was an Avox.

"Drive her wherever she wishes and then return back here, right away." Blaine took a key off a hook behind him and handed it to the boy. Santana raised an eyebrow at the authoritative tone that the concierge had and stifled a laugh at their obvious height difference. The Avox towered over the concierge and he was spitting out orders to him.

"Let's go," Santana jerked her head and the boy nodded.

He led her out of the building and into the sheltered car park. Santana followed him as he led her to a sleek, black town car. She nodded in approval as he opened the passenger door for her. She slid into the seat and fastened her seatbelt as the Avox did the same in the driver's seat. He started the car and waited expectantly.

"McKinley Industries," Santana said robotically.

The Avox nodded and began reversing out of the parking spot. Santana stared out the window, watching as they rolled by huge skyscrapers and highrises. She remembered the first time she ever saw one. She was fourteen and the gigantic buildings scared the crap out of her. Now she didn't pay them any mind. She watched as they appeared and disappeared from her view without blinking.

* * *

><p>The heels of Santana's boots clacked as she walked out of the elevator and onto the thirty first floor of the tall building. She made the familiar walk that she had made countless times before to the large office at the end of the hall. Without knocking, she twisted the door knob and pushed the door open. As expected, Will Schuester was sitting at his desk, waiting for her.<p>

When he saw her he smiled widely without showing any teeth. That stupid smile always repulsed Santana.

"So it took you a wh-" He began to speak in a suave voice but was immediately cut off by Santana.

"Do not come to my fucking room again, got it?" Santana threatened. "Seriously. Don't."

"I'm a businessman, Santana," Will reasoned, amused at the girl's fiery reaction. "I was just ensuring the quality of my investments."

"I've never let you down before, Will," Santana remarked. "And I'm not about to."

"Maybe, but I don't know about that Brittany girl. She doesn't seem like winning material."

"She is. I've been… Training her. Privately. She'll win. You have my word on that," Santana promised, trying not to sound desperate.

"Your _words_ don't mean much to me," He said, hinting at another meaning in his statement. Santana understood, of course and nodded. "Your actions, however…"

"I'll go through with my end of the deal, you know I will," her voice began to quaver slightly. God, she fucking hated Will Schuester. The sight of him made her skin crawl and his voice gave her goosebumps.

"As will I," Will responded, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. "Santana-"

"Don't come around my floor anymore," Santana blurted out. She searched her mind for an excuse to avoid telling the real truth. She didn't think Will would react well to 'you repulse me and I fucking hate you'. Probably not. "It looks suspicious."

Will leaned back in his chair and at looked Santana, trying to read what she was thinking. He sighed and ran his hand through his thick curly hair.

"You're right," He admitted, seeing the reason in her explanation. "But Santana-"

"Okay, it's time for me to go," Santana rushed away from Will's desk. "I'll see you around."

She stepped backwards, keeping her eyes on the older man. When her back hit the door, she felt around behind her for the door knob. She threw the door open, nearly hitting the wide-eyed ginger Avox cleaning woman in the face. She raced down the hallway, bile rising in her stomach. She needed to get the fuck away from Will Schuester before she puked all over his expensive carpeting.

* * *

><p>Santana slid her card key into the door slowly, as if any quick movements would wake the girl that Santana assumed to still be sleeping. There was a flash of green light beside the slot and Santana pulled her card out. She was extra careful with opening the door and she didn't quite know what to expect when she would open it fully.<p>

She hoped that Brittany was still there sleeping, wrapped up in the heavy duvet cover, with her legs tucked under her chin. She remembered how Brittany used to sleep in that position whenever they had sleepovers (which was pretty damn often) and how Brittany would always steal away most of the blanket. Santana never really minded, though. It just gave her an excuse to curl into her side and cuddle up with her.

The brief memory triggered a pang of guilt in Santana. She had just left Brittany. She had just left literally minutes after the blonde girl came to her room and fell asleep crying in her arms.

A small part of Santana wished that Brittany had left her room before Santana got back. It would be easier for them both. Or at least that is what Santana tried to convince herself. That way, she didn't owe Brittany any explanations because she knew that if Brittany was in her room awake, she would definitely ask for one.

She pushed open the door slowly and popped her head in anxiously. Her eyes scanned across the familiar room before resting on the figure that had never looked more tiny than in that exact moment. Brittany was curled up in the middle of Santana's bed with the blanket tucked tightly around her lithe body and the slowly rising sun seemed to make Brittany's blonde hair look golden. Santana let out a sigh of relief and stepped into the room.

She tried to unzip her boots as silently as she could, but without surprise the zipping noise was loud in the otherwise silent room. She peeked over at the bed and seeing that Brittany had not moved at all, Santana slipped off her boots and lined them up meticulously beside the door. She began to unbutton the large buttons of her peacoat, leaving her in her tight black skirt and white blouse, when she heard movement coming from the bed.

Santana turned around to see a disheveled Brittany beginning to sit up in bed. Her blonde hair was sticking out at all different angles and she was looking around the room, as if she was confused as to where exactly she was. When her drowsy eyes finally landed on Santana, they seemed to light up and Santana felt her heart jump a little bit.

"Hey," Santana breathed out, trying to hide her awe.

"I like your skirt," Brittany said between a long yawn.

"Thanks," Santana replied.

"Where'd you go?" Brittany asked, in an adorably disheveled voice.

"I just stepped out for a second, not long," Santana whispered, approaching the bed and sitting at the foot. "Feeling better? No more crying?"

"I, uh, I'm sorry," Brittany bit the corner of her lower lip, nervously. "About the whole crying thing."

"Don't apologize," Santana shook her head. She swallowed the lump in her throat and reached across the bed to slip her hand over Brittany's lighter one. "Don't apologize, okay? It's fine."

She squeezed Brittany's hand and offered a rarely genuine smile, locking her dark brown eyes with bright sapphire eyes. Brittany soon averted her eyes and began to trace the patterns of the comforter with them.

"I know, but I still felt a little- I just felt stupid," Brittany mumbled. As soon as she spoke the words, Santana saw the pale complexion of her cheeks redden.

"Don't," Santana tried to comfort her. "Don't apologize or feel stupid for feeling. That's ridiculous."

Santana watched Brittany nod in understanding and smile softly. When she finally looked back up at and locked eyes with her, Santana saw a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. The corners of her thin lips seemed to quiver slightly, as if she was unsure of what she wanted to say.

"What's up, Britt?" Santana's eyebrows furrowed in an attempt trying to read the blonde girl.

"What about you?" Brittany spoke in a husky, low voice. "Are you sorry for feeling?"

Santana's breath caught in her throat. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Brittany's boldness left her speechless. The caring girl she remembered from her carefree childhood would never be that brazen. Brittany always had a great perception of other people's feelings and she had always cared about them. She would never hurt anyone physically or emotionally or make them feel bad about themselves. She would never say anything that would make someone uncomfortable, unless she meant to.

"That sounded a lot more sexy in my head," Brittany pondered aloud and Santana's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"Wha-" Santana began to say.

"I was trying to seduce you, but it kind of sounded rude when it came out," Brittany finished her thought and frowned.

"I-What?" Santana said again.

Brittany's cerulean gaze was suddenly fixated on Santana, or more specifically her lips. Santana suddenly began to panic. Brittany wanted to kiss her. On the lips. Again. Santana tried to tear her eyes away from Brittany's darkening blue orbs, but she couldn't. Brittany began to move her face closer to Santana and although a million voices in her head were shouting to push her away or better yet, jump out the ceiling to floor window, she didn't move.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she licked her lips in anticipation. Soon, she could feel Brittany's hot breath on her lower lip and Brittany's pink lips gently pressing against her own. Santana didn't move. She was frozen in her position and she honestly didn't want to. She tried to convince herself that she was dreaming and that at any second, Brittany would cry out in pain, just like in the rest of her dreams. It was easier that way.

It was a sensory overload for Santana. It was like she couldn't feel anything, yet she could feel every single nerve in her body. When she felt a warm hand wrap around her and play with the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck, she snapped out of her daze. This was real. It was as if something had sparked inside of Santana and started that familiar burning at the pit of her stomach. Her arms flew out from their previously rigid placement beside her abdomen and grabbed the back of Brittany's head. She fisted long, soft blonde hair and she suddenly flew onto her back.

Brittany was hovering on top of her with her long legs on either side of her Santana's small hips and began to nip at Santana's lower lip. Santana opened her mouth, moaning softly, and Brittany's tongue slipped in and touched hers, experimentally. Santana thought she was going to explode from sexual frustration when Brittany stroked her tongue with her own and simultaneously ran her hands up the sides of Santana's abdomen. She had never felt anything like she had in that moment. Her head flew back when Brittany's hands averted their course a few inches below Santana's breasts.

"Touch me," Santana gasped out, breathing heavily and pressing her lips to Brittany's firmly. "Please."

Santana felt colder when Brittany's lips moved away from hers, but once again felt like she was on fire when Brittany's wet lips pressed against her neck. She thought that Brittany was really _really_ good at whatever it was exactly that she was doing and she knew that she never wanted her to stop, at that rate.

Brittany's wandering hands made their way up to the top of Santana's blouse, just skimming her breasts as they struggled to pop open the buttons. Rushing but delicate, long fingers opened each button, one by one. Brittany pulled her lips away from the soft skin of Santana's neck so that she could pull the shirt off of the brunette but immediately placed them back on and began to suck and nip at the skin of Santana's neck.

She released it with a popping noise and Santana almost whined because of how desperate she was feeling. Brittany had stirred a certain tightness between her legs and she _needed_ to feel a release soon. Warm, wet lips moved further down Santana's body, pleasurably, but once they rested on _that_ certain spot near her collarbone, Santana jerked upward, knocking Brittany backwards and making her disappear off the edge of bed.

"Ow," She heard an airy, husky voice say. Brittany reappeared at the foot of her bed, scratching the messy blonde hair atop her head.

"Fuck, sorry," Santana began to apologize profusely.

"It's okay," Brittany smiled lustily and began to move back to straddle Santana.

"No!" Santana yelled out as an automatic response, but immediately regretted her reaction when she saw the look on Brittany's face. "I just… I'm… I can't."

"But you were just…" Brittany sputtered, confused.

"It was just too," Santana trailed off and ran through various excuses in her mind before finally settling on one. "Fast."

Santana noticed Brittany's eyes resting on the long scar that ran across and under her collarbone. She quickly grabbed her blouse and pulled it back on. Fuck. Brittany had seen it.

"Where is that from?" Brittany nodded her head at Santana and Santana shuffled around the bed, looking for a sweater that she's sure she left under a pillow the other day.

"It's nothing," Santana brushed it off, feigning nonchalance. "From the Games."

"Oh," Brittany breathed out, in understanding. "Did it hurt a lot?"

Yes. It hurt liked fucking hell. Santana briefly remembered the moment it happened. The second of what had become normalcy to a sharp flash of pain. Then came the blood and more pain.

"No," Santana shrugged her shoulders as she blatantly and obviously lied through her teeth.

"It looks like it did," Brittany observed, watching the scar move against Santana's protruding collar bone.

"It didn't," Santana reiterated the lie. Fuck, could Brittany bring up anything but this? "I could hardly feel it. I didn't even know it happened 'til I saw the blood."

Another lie.

"Oh," Brittany responded, sensing that Santana wanted to change the topic. "I didn't mean to like pressure you or anything like that. I mean, I haven't even… I never- well, you know."

Santana nodded in understanding and in relief. She had always thought that Brittany and Sam had been together. They always seemed so close when they would swim together or go places together or when they were just talking. If she was being honest, it bothered Santana whenever she did see them together. Her horribly vivid imagination would run wild.

"I always thought that you and Sam," Santana trailed off, knowing that Brittany would know what she was talking about.

"No!" Brittany shouted immediately after. She laughed aloud at Santana and shook her head. "That's gross. He's like my brother."

"Oh, I just thought because you volunteered for his sister and people don't just volunteer for people that don't mean anything to them so I always just figured that you guys were like together or something," Santana shrugged, trying to seem cool about it all.

Truthfully, it had been bothering her for a long time. She had sacrificed so that Brittany could live. She gave herself up for her. She put her own life and the lives of seven other kids behind Brittany's. Sure, she didn't die, but she could've. She almost did. It didn't seem fair that Brittany could just throw away her sacrifice for some stupid little girl that didn't mean anything.

"She means something," Brittany explained. "She's my best friend's sister, but I just… I don't know. She's just really small, you know?"

Brittany looked around the room, searching for an answer to the problem in her head. She sighed deeply and locked eyes with Santana. Santana noticed that Brittany's usually cheery bright blue eyes looked rather somber.

"Stacey is," Brittany started off in a quiet voice. "She's very sweet. She's funny and little and she laughs at Sam's bad jokes when no one else does. She's a nice girl. She doesn't even watch the Games on television; she shouldn't have to go in. Nothing that small and innocent should have to go through that stuff or even see it."

Santana tilted her head to the side and nodded. She knew what _exactly_ what she meant. The smile that Brittany offered to her told Santana that maybe she knew what she was thinking. She had always been really perceptive, after all.

Suddenly, Santana felt a smooth warmth on her bare thigh and felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand when she realized that it was Brittany's hand.

"I never said thank you," Brittany said softly, stroking Santana's tan thigh with her thumb. "What you did for me… God, I never… I just… Thank you."

So Brittany _did_ know what Santana had been thinking.

"I- You're welcome, I guess," Santana felt the corner of her lips twitch upwards at Brittany's gratitude.

"I can't believe that I never said thank you," Brittany laughed in disbelief as she shook her head. "I mean like, you saved my life and I never even said thank you. What kind of person does that? Can you believe that?"

"It was my fault for ignoring you and stuff," the words stumbled out of Santana's mouth nervously. Her eyes didn't move from the hot path that Brittany was trailing against her flesh. "If you had the chance, you probably would've, right?"

"Yeah," Brittany's voice rose higher at the end of the small word, like she wanted to say something else.

"But?" Santana dragged out, raising her eyebrows at Brittany's antics. She was just really fucking adorable sometimes.

"Does this mean you're done ignoring me? Because you're talking to me now and this has been the longest conversation that we haven't argued or cried or something equally as emotional in years. Literally."

Santana had never really seen someone use that 'puppy dog eyes' thing and she had never understood the whole big effect of it until that moment. Brittany's eyes had never looked more blue than they had in that moment. They were lighter than they usually were and instantly reminded Santana of the sky in the late morning that hovered over her dock in Victor's Village. They were big and so blue and were shining with hopefulness. Her brows were furrowed slightly and there was only the slightest of frowns placed upon her mouth.

Santana thought that if Brittany asked her to jump off a cliff or cut off her hand, she would do it without a doubt. There wasn't much that Santana wouldn't do for Brittany. Nothing, not the Games or three long years or anything else, would ever change that.

"Yes," Santana said, without a doubt in her mind.

"So can I ask you a question? And you'll have to answer completely honestly."

Santana noticed that Brittany's eyes kept darting back and forth between her eyes and lips. It made her nervous as hell and she wasn't even sure for what. She gulped down the large lump in her throat and nodded.

"Okay, well," Brittany started off, chewing the corner of her bottom lip. "What do you get if you win?"

"The Games?" Santana responded with raised eyebrows. It was common knowledge to all of Panem what Victors received upon winning. "Uh, well there's the food and supplied and stuff that's distributed to the whole district and you get a shitload of money. Besides that, you'd get the house beside mine in Victor's Village."

"A house?" Brittany's eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. "One of those big ones?"

"Yeah, you know that," Santana reasoned. "You'll get the one beside mine. We'll get to share a dock."

"Wow," Brittany breathed out. There was a dreamy, lost look in her eye that was so familiar to Santana for a few seconds before Brittany snapped back into reality. "I don't think I'd like that, though. It's really big and it probably needs a lot of cleaning. I don't even know how to cook for myself. My mom and my dad and my brother can have it. Or the Evans', if they want. They could all probably fit inside. I'll stay at home."

"Well, Britt, you can have a cleaning lady, if you want," Santana, unlike Dave and Mags, had refused that optioned immediately upon its presentation. Sure, sometimes her house got a little dirty, but she would rather clean it herself than have a Capitol-hired woman trifling through her drawers. "And you can hire a chef if you want or I could cook you some stuff sometimes."

"I'd like to have dinner with you sometimes, but a house doesn't seem like a great prize for this," Brittany decided.

"Houses are pretty great," Santana argued lightly. "It's a nice house. Big and nice furniture and a television and more rooms than you'll ever need…"

"Well, I still think that a house is a crappy prize." Santana saw that Brittany was dead-set on her opinion and laughed at the way she tightened her jaw.

"Okay, I'll tell you what," Santana shifted on the bed and crossed her legs. "Win and I'll get you anything you want."

"Anything?" Brittany repeated, raising an eyebrow. Santana noticed the mischievous undertones in her voice but dismissed them.

"Anything," Santana nodded. "Even if it costs a million dollars."

"What about if it's free?"

"Uh," Santana paused, unsure of what Brittany was hinting at. She wasn't sure what Brittany could want that was free and it seemed a little odd that someone would choose something free if they could have the world. Then again, it was Brittany and she had always had a special way of looking at the world. So without another thought, Santana nodded, "Yeah, I guess so."

"I want you to kiss me. Like a real kiss."

Brittany looked up and Santana could see the smile that was fighting to break out onto her face. Santana couldn't understand why Brittany looked so damn hopeful. After all, they had just been kissing, _really_ kissing, a few minutes before. Besides that, Santana found her face getting really hot. If it were anyone else that requested that of Santana, she would've shook them off with a few well-placed insults and verbal threats. But it wasn't anyone else. It was Brittany and it made Santana's heart start beating twice as fast.

"But," Santana stammered. "We just… Didn't we just do that?"

"Yeah, we kissed, but I still want you to kiss me." Brittany probably meant it as a way of helping her understand her statement better, but Santana was still confused.

"I don't understand," said Santana, squinting her eyes in confusion.

"I want you to kiss me. Is that so hard? I mean, you didn't initiate the kiss or anything, so it's more like I kissed you and you kissed back which is different than you kissing me," Brittany explained the, in her opinion, flawless reasoning.

"What about the time on the roof?" Santana argued back. "I clearly remember that I kissed you then."

Brittany didn't respond to Santana's rebuttal and after a few seconds of complete silence, Santana was starting to worry about the blonde. She hoped that Brittany didn't think that she didn't want to kiss her, because she did and she always would.

"Britt?"

"I mess up sometimes," Brittany blurted randomly. "I say and do stupid stuff because I'm distracted or worried about something else."

"You just care too much," Santana reasoned and mimicked Brittany's actions from earlier by placing her soft hand on Brittany's upper thigh and slowly dragging it across.

"If you say yes," Brittany continued slowly. "If you promise that you'll kiss me when I get out, I'd do anything to get out of there. To get back to you."

For someone who had just said that they had a tendency to say stupid things, Santana thought that Brittany was the most eloquent person in the world. The words all resonated in Santana's mind and she knew that she would never, as long as she lived, forget them.

Santana placed her hands on either side of Brittany's face, cupping her slightly pink cheeks. She leaned forward until she heard Brittany's breathing catch in her throat. She gently guided Brittany's face towards hers and fluttered her eyes shut as their lips slid together. It was hardly a graze, but it seemed to get to Brittany because when Santana finally pulled away from her, Santana could see that she had this goofy, dazed look on her face.

"I'll do it. Of course, I'll do it." Santana whispered, still cupping Brittany's cheeks. She relished in the warmth that seemed to radiate from Brittany's cheeks. At those eight words, Brittany's cheeks split into this gracious, emotional smile that made Santana's pulse quicken.

"Thank you," Brittany said, her voice cracking slightly. "I'll do anything to get back, I promise."

To you. Santana knew that that was what Brittany meant and it made her heart burst. Brittany would do anything to get back to her. She remembered that she told Dave something similar three years before when he was warning her about the arena, but quickly pushed the thought out of her head. She pressed their lips together chastely once more before pulling apart again.

"We should go," Santana said softly. She saw Brittany's eyes widened in alarm and immediately opened her mouth again to explain before Brittany thought she had done something wrong. "I'm supposed to train you. I told Mags and Dave to back off and that I would train you by myself."

"Can't we do that here?"

Santana faltered for a moment.

"No," she spoke carefully. "Time is running out. I mean really train. In the Training Center."

Brittany nodded and let out an inaudible 'oh'. Santana watched Brittany's eyes flicker around the room in thought before she nodded again, but more confidently.

"Okay," Brittany said, loud and with a voice full of conviction. "Anything, right?"

"Anything," Santana repeated.

She was trying not to be terrified, for Brittany's sake. Santana tried not to think about whether or not Brittany would be able to even learn to defend herself and if she, herself, would be able to even teach her without vomiting. She tried not to think about how scared Brittany looked the day before when Santana had been attacking the training dummy. She tried not to think about who or what Brittany would face in the arena in less than two weeks. She pushed all those thoughts out of her head. She definitely did not need to think about them. She told herself that it was for Brittany's sake. Deep down inside, Santana knew that if she even took half of a second to think about them, she would break down. But she couldn't.

_Anything_, she heard Brittany's voice say in her head. Brittany would do anything to get back.

And Santana would do anything to get her back.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading :) Shout-out to my awesome beta, manatees-have-thick-skin, for being awesome. I hope everyone liked the chapter :) Review!<strong>

**PS- In true Glee fashion, I am using the "friends talking with their tongues super close" explanation for Brittana's relationship in right now. **


	11. Me Against Friends

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Eleven: Me Against Friends**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Sorry for taking so long, but life sucks. School's been crazy. Work's been crazy. Life's been crazy.**

* * *

><p>When Santana had told Brittany that they would be training, Brittany didn't really know what to expect. She thought that Santana would make her run a few miles and maybe lift weights or something but she definitely did not get any of that. Santana's idea of 'training' was an hour of cardio, an hour of muscle strength training every day, and an hour of tactical defense (or whatever Santana called it) every day.<p>

Brittany was grateful that she didn't have to stick with Puck's training plan which probably included more of those killing seminars and weapons trainings. Santana's tactical defense was basically the opposite of what Puck's training outline, or so she explained. Instead of learning instant and slow-death kill strikes, Santana taught her how to go through the Games completely undetected. She learned to be silent but quick and resourceful, and although she had been reluctant to learn at first, Brittany was taught counter-strikes and defensive tactics. It was a long, grueling process and she knew that her Mentor was probably just as tired as she was. Santana didn't have to do all that extra work for her and she was really grateful that she did.

Their sessions really were productive for Brittany. Not only did she get to flirt with Santana and touch her slim and toned body which looked even hotter under a thin sheen of moisture, but she learned things that Santana deemed essential and quickly became confident in her abilities. Her initial reluctance slowed down the process at first, but there was something about Santana that always made Brittany feel more comfortable.

Maybe it was the way she greeted Brittany with a really thick juice type liquid that was like nothing she ever tasted before. Maybe it was how she ditched that uniform-like (albeit sexy) skin tight suit for a pair of slightly looser but equally as distracting pair of really really short shorts and plain sports bra. Most likely, it was how Santana would smile, take Brittany's hand and whisper 'anything' inaudibly whenever Brittany showed her reluctance.

Now, Brittany was sitting in a corner of the Training Center. She probably looked pretty impressive in her synthetic full-body work-out suit, but her body language told a whole other story. Her eyes were quickly darting around the room to every single little sound that she heard, in anticipation. Her right leg was shaking up and down, rhythmically, and she kept cracking her knuckles.

Her first session, after that interesting morning in bed, was more than a week ago. Although she had become confident and knew what Santana was teaching her, she was extremely nervous on this particular morning. It was, as Santana had told her previously, the day of the combine. She would be meeting the rest of the Tributes today.

When Santana had told her that, Brittany had immediately started counting off Tributes in her head. There were her and Puck, of course, then Artie, the wheelchair-bound boy she had met in the elevator, and then that Jesse St. James guy, with his intimidating looks and luscious hair. Four Tributes, so that left twenty.

Brittany heard the familiar bell sound, signifying the opening of the elevator and snapped her head up to see who was approaching. She stood immediately when she saw Puck walking towards her apprehensively. He nodded in recognition and she feigned a smile in return. They both looked away from the other and gulped. They knew they were both thinking the same thing. They would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.

"So," Puck whistled. "How's your training been?"

"It's been good," Brittany nodded. "You?"

"Pretty good."

She was just as perceptive as she had always been and always would be but most people seemed to forget that. Puck evidently fell into the 'most people' category because he was shifting around on his toes and kept looking at Brittany quickly, then looking away. She knew he wanted to say something and pretty badly too.

"Haven't seen you around lately," Puck voiced his observation and swung his arms beside him like two heavy pendulums. He seemed to think about what he had said, because immediately after he added, "Like after training and stuff."

"Well, I've been training three hours a day and when I don't train I nap or eat with Santana," Brittany explained, conveniently leaving out all of the other things she had been doing with Santana when they weren't training.

"Three hours, huh? That's twice as long as I train daily," Puck tried to sound nonchalant, but Brittany thought he just sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, we cover a lot," Brittany shrugged. If Puck wanted something out of her, he was going to have to come right out and ask.

"Like what?" He replied, not looking at her eyes.

"Just stuff…" She answered blandly.

"So you're ready," Puck seemed to state rather than ask. "For the Games, I mean."

"I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Brittany admitted. "I don't really want to be ready though. It makes it seem more real."

She wasn't sure why she was being so honest with Puck when she knew that he was hiding something. She wanted to talk to Santana about that kind of stuff, but Santana seemed so cool and collected when it came to the Games. She was always brushing anything relating to the Games off when Brittany would mention them. Unimportant is what she would call them, but they didn't seem unimportant to Brittany.

"I know what you mean," Puck agreed, nodding his head and frowning. "Listen, Brittany, I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," Brittany encouraged. Finally. "Go for it."

At that point, several other Tributes filed into the large room and from afar, they appeared to be just as apprehensive as Brittany. They were walking closer toward the pair. Brittany darted her eyes between them and Puck, wishing that he would say whatever it was that he had to say. She really wanted to meet the new Tributes.

She knew that her thoughts contradicted her previous feelings after her brief interaction with Artie. She had been so upset that day because she couldn't bear the thought of someone dying when they deserved to live. She was anticipating putting faces to the brief descriptions that Santana had robotically read out to her the previous night and she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like her and if she was being honest, it freaked her out.

"Now just, feel free to say no to this." Puck offered, preparing himself for a negative response. "Do you want t-"

"Welcome Tributes!"

Brittany jumped in her skin at the loud booming voice that seemed to project all around the Training Center. She didn't notice her before, but the tall woman in the middle of the room captured Brittany's attention immediately. She had her blonde hair cropped in a short boy cut and was wearing one of those synthetic suits that seemed to fit her quite looser than Brittany had seen it on Santana or Dave. There were a few prominent lines on her face and somehow Brittany knew that they weren't from old age but from life experience. It was her wrinkles and the way her voice commanded attention and the intensity emulated through her eyes that told Brittany that this woman was powerful and to be obeyed.

"As you all must know," the woman began speaking, with her hands resting on her hips. "I'm Sue Sylvester, the head Gamemaker."

Brittany didn't know that. She glanced around the room, now full of young men and women and even some boys and girls. None of them look the slightest bit surprised by the woman or her commandeering entrance. She saw Artie sitting in his wheelchair in front of an average-sized girl with long black hair and a pale complexion rivalled by Brittany's. She tried to catch his eye, but he seemed to be fully engaged on Sue Sylvester.

"You will each make your way into that room," Brittany looked back to Sue as she pointed to a door to the immediate right of her, guarded by two bored looking Avoxes. "Where you will prove to me why I should give you a good rating."

"Rating?" Brittany muttered as she knit her eyebrows together in confusion.

"Yeah," Puck leaned over and breathed quietly. "It shows the Capitol who's most capable of winning. It's how they'll base their bets and sponsorships. Didn't Santana tell you?"

Brittany thought back to the countless conversations they had had over the past couple of weeks. Her mind flickered to an occasion a few days before when Santana was talking about this combine, but Brittany couldn't seem to remember anything about a rating. It struck her as strange. Most of the things that Santana said, Brittany had ingrained into her memory. She must not have said anything about a rating which also struck Brittany as strange. It seemed important.

Sue seemed to have supersonic ears because when Brittany looked back up, feral eyes were trained on her. Brittany gulped and look down, avoiding the steely gaze.

"You'll be sent into the room with your District partner and we'll be going in numerical order. District One, be inside in thirty seconds. The rest of you are free to disperse and do whatever it is you want to do. Train, make alliances, go sit in the corner in fetal position and rock back and forth while singing somber children's lullabies. I don't care what you do but the second you get in that room, you better bring your 'a' game."

Sue turned swiftly and entered the room to the right of her as the guards slid open the door for her. Two Tributes, a short girl with fiery red hair and a boy with a head of loose curls, followed Sue into the room and seemed to exude confidence. Brittany recognized the head as the pompous boy that Brittany had seen before her first interview. Jesse St. James.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. Brittany didn't move a muscle as some of the other Tributes began to cautiously talk to each other. Jesse and the heavyset girl seemed to come out of the room as confident as they went in. They weren't shaken at all. The next two Tributes were exactly the same. She hadn't realized how nervous she would be until she remembered what Rachel had said about the Tributes from Districts One and Two. They usually won and they were always the favourites. They had trained for this their whole lives.

Brittany suddenly had violent images of Jesse St. James mutilating her body as Santana did to that stupid training dummy. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She wouldn't be scared. She couldn't. She had promised Santana that she would do anything to get that kiss and she wasn't about to let a couple of Careers scare her.

All of a sudden, Brittany felt a hand on her shoulder and she jumped at the sudden touch.

"Sorry," Puck said as he stepped away from her, respecting her space. "But it's our turn."

She hadn't realized that Districts Two and Three had already gone in and out, but she shrugged, trying to shake off her nervousness. She didn't have any clue what she was going to do. Puck guided her to the doors and the two Avox guards stepped aside, looking straight ahead and not at their faces. The guard on the right pushed a tiny black button beside the door and the metal panels slid aside, opening a gateway for Puck and Brittany.

"This is it," she heard Puck whisper behind her.

It was like the whole Training Center was squished inside a room an eighth of the size. There were about a hundred different weapons lined up along two parallel walls of the room and between the walls there were a few training dummies with targets on them.

Brittany felt her pulse begin to quicken and her breathing heavy. She had no idea what she was doing. She began to panic, her eyes flitting around to every corner of the room. She was in over her head. She couldn't do it. She tried to remember something, anything that Santana had taught her but it was like someone swept everything she had learned out of her brain. She couldn't even remember how to talk.

"Who's first?"

* * *

><p>Brittany was still in a daze as she was being pushed outside the room by the guards, with Puck flanked at her side. When the two next Tributes stepped forward and the guards looked at her expectantly, she still didn't move. Puck sighed sympathetically and began to pull her aside. He placed his hands on her shoulders and scanned her face for any kind of reaction. He gently shook her shoulders, but she still did not evoke any kind of emotional reaction.<p>

"Dude, what the hell?" He whispered loudly. He scanned behind him for any Tributes who might be eavesdropping. "You said you were ready!"

"I…" Brittany trailed off. "I don't know what happened. I just froze up."

Puck let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his short Mohawk. He shook his head and rested his hands on his hips.

"You… You should've thought of what you were going to do or something. Now, Sylvester's going to tell everyone that you're not good for shit!" He was raising his voice like a slow-rising crescendo and his hand gestures were becoming more animated as his voice rose. He couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I tried to but I just… She was just watching me with her notepad and pen and… I don't know. Forget it. It's over now."

"I can't forget it!" Puck exclaimed. "You just potentially ruined our chances of getting sponsors!"

Their chances? Brittany never agreed to be Puck's ally in the arena. Sure, most District partners usually have some sort of alliance, but she didn't want to be Puck's ally. She didn't want to see him in there at all.

"No!" She snapped. "I never said- I don't want to be your ally."

"What do you mean?" Puck demanded an answer. "We're partners! We went to school together!"

Brittany was trying to think of ways to tell Puck that she couldn't care. It's not that she didn't care about him, because she honestly did. Even if he would laugh with some of the other boys when someone called Brittany stupid, she still cared about him. But she was trying not to care about the fact that she once babysat Puck's little sister or that they went to school together since they were really young or any of that stuff. She couldn't care. If she started to care, she feared that she wouldn't be able to keep her promise to Santana.

"Only one person makes it out of there. One person not two District partners," Brittany uttered with a shaking voice. "So you stay away from me o-or I'll kill you."

Puck recoiled, almost as if Brittany had slapped him. He knit his eyebrows together in confusion.

"You'll kill me?" He repeated in disbelief. His previously shocked face suddenly switched to one of arrogance and pride. "I'd like to see you try. What are you gonna do, huh? Stare at me with some idiot look on your face, like you did Sylvester? You're so stupid that-"

He said it. The 's' word. Brittany seemed to explode like a time bomb ticking down to that exact moment. She threw her right fist out wildly and it hit Puck at the side of his defined cheekbones. She didn't expect punching someone to hurt so much, but the second she felt her knuckles make a cracking sound against Puck's face, she felt pain shoot through the nerves in her hand. A part of her wanted to stop, but another part, one that she didn't know even existed, was telling her to hit him again. Brittany lunged forward again, prepared to hit that cocky look off his face once again, but she felt two arms wrap around her torso and pull her back.

"Calm down," she heard an unfamiliar masculine voice hiss into her ear.

She felt him pull her away from Puck, but she was still waving her arms around struggling to be released. She couldn't see where she was going, because the person was pulling her backwards. All she could see were the faces of the other Tributes. She saw the fear etched on the faces of some of the younger Tributes and the judgment reflected on some of the older faces. She saw Artie's shocked and slightly disturbed face. She wanted to wipe those looks off of each of their faces. They didn't know what Puck said. They didn't know anything.

By the time she calmed down, she was being pulled into a seat in a familiar room. It was the room that Santana had brought her in to calm her down after her first failed training session. She sat on the couch with her face in her hands, breathing heavily. She started to lean on her right hand but immediately jumped up when she felt the pain shoot through her hand once again.

"Ow," she breathed out.

She saw a calloused hand hold out a little plastic baggy filled with ice. She followed the trail up his forearm, then his bicep and shoulder before her eyes rested on the surprisingly delicate face of Jesse St. James.

"You," she murmured in disbelief.

"I don't think we've properly met," he smiled this brilliant smile that made Brittany feel like he could cure a disease or something. When Brittany didn't take the improvised ice pack, Jesse placed it gently on her bruised knuckles. "I'm Jesse St. James. You're Brittany Pierce, right?"

"Yes," Brittany answered with a sigh as she felt a cooling relief rush through her hand.

"That was quite a punch. I'm no doctor, but from what I can tell I'd say you might've cracked a few bones. It doesn't look like anything major, though. You should get it wrapped up when you get out of here. You might want to lay off hitting knuckleheaded idiots for the next few days though," Jesse joked.

"I didn't want to hit him." Brittany cut in, feeling the need to defend her actions.

Jesse looked down, inspecting Brittany's damaged hand. Wow. His hair was really nice.

"I used to feel it when I first started training. I was about four, I think. I wouldn't get my way or someone would take something of mine and I'd feel this almost carnal, animalistic urge to… Well, punch them in the face, more or less. I remember this one time I was walking through the main street of my District and this older kid tossed a slushy into my hair. That's this fruity drink that combines juice and ice, by the way," Jesse added. "I bit his finger off. Now whenever, someone touches my hair, I go absolutely crazy. I can't help it. It's just me."

"Well it's not me," Brittany mumbled pathetically. "It's not who I am."

"I know," Jesse nodded. "It's not anyone until it is and even then, you don't have to be."

"That doesn't really make sense," Brittany commented and the floppy-haired boy laughed. With that smile on his face, he kind of reminded Brittany of a hound dog.

"It doesn't matter. He probably provoked you right? Said or did something that really set you off?"

It was like Jesse was reading her mind. She remembered once that Santana had told her that the Careers were more skilled and ruthless than anyone else in the arena because of their years of training. Jesse didn't seem really ruthless, but she wondered if mind-reading was one of those things that he was more skilled at.

"Yeah. He called me stupid. What I did, well, I guess it kind of was stupid."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"It was my turn to show off in front of Miss Sylvester and I just didn't do anything. I just stood there. I tried to remember what I learned but I couldn't remember anything," Brittany rambled on. "He said some mean things but I could see that he was thinking more mean things. He thinks I won't last a second in the arena."

_Just like everyone else,_ she thought bitterly. But she would prove them wrong.

"Well, Brittany Pierce," Jesse's face looked thoughtful. "I have a confession to make. I've seen some top secret videos of you training with that busty mentor of yours, not to mention the power behind that punch. You definitely have what it takes to make it in there."

"Really?" Brittany felt both hopeful and proud. A Career was telling her that she could make it.

"Yes," Jesse nodded. "Perhaps you don't do well under pressure. That's understandable. You don't need to do well under pressure when you're in the Career Pack. You need good instincts."

"Wait," Brittany stopped Jesse, mid-speech. "Are you asking me to join the Career Pack?"

"Yes. Your muscle tone is impeccable and I've been watching your pulse for the past few minutes and you have a resting heart rate of just over 40," Jesse raised his eyebrows and smirked. "You'd be a perfect fit for us."

"I'd kill you sooner or later. You've been nice to me and everything for these past few minutes, but I promised someone that I'd do anything to come out of there so I'd kill you eventually and the rest of the Career Pack." Brittany blurted out.

"That's understandable. We all want to come out of there alive, but only one of us will. I get it," Jesse nodded and tilted his head to the side.

"That's why I don't want to be Puck's ally," she admitted. "We weren't really friends back home but I knew him. I don't want to kill him."

"We're all just kids put in a crappy situation. The difference is, I'm more prepared for this than everyone else. I'm ready to die and most of us are, but I'm also ready to kill. Something tells me that are, too. So take a few days to think about my offer," Jesse stood up, and brushed some lint off of his pants. "And get back to me, Brittany Pierce."

* * *

><p>Brittany had left the combine, without looking back. She didn't look at Puck's undoubtedly furious face or at any of the other Tributes, who were probably wondering what a Career wanted from that ditzy blonde Tribute. She was walking aimlessly around the lobby when she saw Santana sitting at a table by herself, sipping a mug of tea or coffee or some other liquid that people drank when they sat alone, looking attractive. She smiled at the sight of the brunette and silently padded toward her. Santana smiled in recognition when she saw Brittany. She lowered the steaming mug from her pink lips and placed it on the table.<p>

"Hey," Santana greeted with that secret smile that Brittany loved so much. "Done already?"

"Yes," Brittany thought about lying to Santana for a second, but quickly decided against it. She sat in the chair opposite to Santana and shook her leg, anxiously. "Well, kind of. I'm done, but everyone else is still down there."

"What do you mean?" Santana squinted her eyes together and scrunched her nose up in confusion.

"Well," Brittany bit her lip, nervously. She really didn't want Santana to be mad at her. "I kind of punched Puck in the face and left."

"You what?" Santana sputtered, choking on her drink. "You punched Puck in the face? What the fuck?"

"He said some stuff," Brittany answered, keeping out the part where she completely blew her chance with Sue Sylvester. Santana didn't need to know that and Brittany didn't want to tell her. "And it made me mad so I punched him."

"And then you left?" Santana said, more calmly.

"Well, not really. I did, but I was talking to Jesse St. James before and he asked me to be his ally."

"Jesse St. James?" Santana repeated, incredulously. "The District One Tribute?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "He was super nice to me and he said that I had good muscle tone and resting heart something."

"You're considering this?" Santana asked and Brittany could hear the disbelief in her voice. "You trust him? He's a Career."

"I think so," Brittany responded. "Being in the Career Pack is better than being part of nothing, right?"

"Puck didn't make an alliance with you? I told that meathead to watch you," Santana muttered, more to herself than to Brittany.

"You told him to watch me?" Brittany said, slightly angered. Everyone was taking her for a fool but she thought that Santana knew that she wasn't stupid. She thought that Santana thought more of her.

"No, it's not like that," Santana immediately defended in a relaxed tone. "Before we started training, I just asked him to be your ally, that's all."

"Oh," Brittany said, feeling stupid. Of course Santana would look out for her. "Well if that's all, you could've told me since, you know…"

"I know but I just didn't want to make you mad," Santana beseeched. "I know you've been working so hard and I should've told you earlier. If you don't want to be his ally, then you don't have to."

"But?" Brittany finished off for her. There was always an exception.

"But I don't know if I trust the Careers," Santana admitted. "They're known to betray each other. One minute, they're chasing a Tribute together and the next, three of them have knives in their backs. You need to be careful, no matter what you do."

"So if I don't want to tie myself to Puck and you don't trust the Careers, what do I do?" Brittany asked.

"I don't know, Britt," Santana sighed. "I can't tell you what to do here. I'm sorry."

Brittany wished that Santana would tell her what to do. She always seemed to know what the right thing to do was.

"Britt, I have to go," Santana said, apologetically. She took one last sip of her drink and left it on the table as she stood up. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but I need to go somewhere."

"Where are you going?" Brittany asked.

"Top secret Mentor meeting thing. I'll let you know about it later. Meet me in my room in an hour?" Santana smiled at Brittany and the blonde nodded immediately.

"I'll miss you," Brittany smiled shyly.

"I'll miss you, too, Britt," Santana replied, her smile forming deep dimples in her cheeks.

Some part of Brittany wondered why Santana was going to see an investor. What could Santana possibly want them to invest in? She basically had everything she could ever ask for, compliments of the Capitol. That tiny part of Brittany had existed for a while now. Santana would always mention a business meeting or a conference call or a mysterious investor, but she would never tell Brittany anything more than that. That part of Brittany knew she was hiding something. The rest of her was trying to drown that part out.

* * *

><p>Brittany was standing outside of Santana's room. She checked the watch that Kurt had given her a few days earlier. It had been fifty-seven minutes since Santana left to go meet that investor. Brittany had been waiting outside of Santana's door for the past seven minutes, but she hadn't seen Santana come back from the meeting yet. Maybe the meeting ended early and Santana was already in her room. Brittany mentally agreed with herself. Santana was in the room waiting for her.<p>

Brittany patted her body, searching through the seemingly endless amount of pockets on her suit until she felt the familiar outline of a card. She unzipped her back right pocket and took out two key cards. She slid the first one in and when a red light appeared on the card reader, Brittany frowned. That must be the key to her own room. She tried the other one and the light went green immediately. With one hand on the door knob, Brittany slid both cards in the same pocket and zipped it shut.

When Brittany pushed open the door, she couldn't see Santana anywhere. She took off her shoes and lined them up neatly against the door mat like she knew that Santana liked. She walked through the large suite, checking under the bed and in the washroom and front closet and behind open doors. She wasn't anywhere. Sighing, Brittany pushed open the closet where she knew Santana kept all of her normal clothes.

"Santana?" Brittany whispered hopelessly.

She felt something small hit her in the face and after feeling around and recognizing it as the pull-string for the light, she yanked on it gently. The small room illuminated, a pale yellow light radiating from the light on the ceiling. Anxious blue eyes scanned the tiny room from left to right, but saw nothing but blouses, sweaters, and those awesome skin tight dresses that Santana would wear to dinner sometimes. Then, her eyes landed on a familiar grey sweater. It was Santana's dad's.

Brittany remembered how Santana would wear it during every single sleep over they had. She had always insisted that it was because it was really comfortable and warm, but not heavy, but Brittany knew better. When she'd wake up and see Santana with her nose buried into the ratty fabric, she knew it was because she used to miss her dad like crazy whenever he went on one of his week-long fishing trips and despite her complaints, Santana loved the smell of seawater.

Brittany wondered briefly if the sweater still smelled like seawater and fish. She gently pulled the sweater off of the hanger and brought it up to her nose. She sniffed at it for a moment, before realizing how ridiculous she looked. She probably looked like a hound dog. As she maneuvered to put the sweater back on the hanger, she heard something slide out of the wide front pocket and bounce once on the ground in front of her.

"Shit," she whispered.

She hung the sweater back on the rack in a rush and bent down to pick up the dropped mystery item. It was really small, only a little bit bigger than the pad of Brittany's thumb. It was a gold and silver pin but seemed to have lost its lustre through years of wear. It showed a silver fish jumping (or at least Brittany assumed as much because of the way its body was curved) and a gold triton crossing over it. The symbol seemed so familiar to Brittany.

Brittany heard a quiet rustling coming from the front door. Santana was back. Brittany panicked, shoving the pin back in the sweater pocket and jumping out of the closet. She ran the short distance from the closet to the bed and arranged herself in the middle of the mattress, trying to look natural. When no one entered the room, Brittany stood from the bed and cautiously made her way over to the door. She watched the handle for any sign of movement and when she received none, she stuck her eyes behind the tiny looking glass. It was Dave.

She swung the door open to meet her Mentor and smiled in greeting. However, Dave did not return her cheery sentiment and stared at her expectantly.

"Is Santana here?" He asked, glancing around the room.

"No," Brittany replied. "Didn't you just see her? At that Mentor thing?"

"That ended about half an hour ago. She wasn't supposed to tell you about that, though." He didn't sound surprised in the slightest. "Just let her know that I'm looking for her."

He turned to leave but didn't make it one step down the hallway. Brittany reached for his large wrist before her could move and he turned right away, subtly pulling his hand out of Brittany's grip. That symbol was plaguing her mind and she had a pressing feeling in her stomach that Santana wouldn't tell her what it meant.

"I found this thing on Santana's… desk... It's a little metal thing with a silver fish and a gold triton over it. It looks really familiar, but I can't seem to remember what it is. I think it's something from on a building or a company logo from back home. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"You found a little metal thing with a silver fish and a gold triton? In Santana's room?" Dave repeated, incredulously.

"Um," Brittany was starting to think that perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned it to him. "Maybe."

"Tell Santana to come to my room the second she gets back. I need to have a little talk with her."

He had this kind of growly tone in his voice when he said it and it scared Brittany a little bit. She thought back to what Jesse had told her about that animalistic feeling to rip things apart and retreated a little bit before stepping forward and putting on a steely glare. Sure, she was kind of (really) scared and Dave and Santana seemed to be pretty good friends, but she had this sudden urge to protect Santana from this side of Dave.

"What if I don't want to?" she questioned shakily.

"Brittany," he said again in that voice. "Right now, you're getting involved in things that you shouldn't be involved in."

"Whatever it is, I'm already involved," She said. Her confidence shook for just a moment as Dave laughed, unamused. "If Santana's involved then I'm involved."

"Look, Brittany, this isn't as simple as you think it is. It's actually very complicated," Dave hissed, leaning forward into the doorframe. "This is Santana being a coward. She's trying to do things that she shouldn't be doing, but she's being too much of a scared little girl to do it right."

"She's not a coward," Brittany interjected. "She's not a scared little girl either. You're wrong about her."

"She wasn't, but maybe you're rubbing off on her," He snapped, in anger.

There it was. That feeling again. She wanted to punch that stupid, smug look off of Dave's face just like she had with Puck's. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, focusing on the way her it felt like her chest was expanding and contracting with each breath.

_It's not anyone until it is and even then, you don't have to be. _That's what Jesse had said. She didn't want to be. She hadn't wanted to punch Puck and she definitely did not want to punch Dave. So she did the only thing she thought she could do.

She pushed Dave out of the way and closed Santana's door shut behind her. She ignored the burly young man as he glared daggers into her back and only stopped walking to press her forefinger to the 'up' button of the elevator.

* * *

><p>For the second time in the past ten minutes, Brittany found herself confused, contemplative and waiting outside a door. She raised her fist to the door and lightly tapped on it. She heard some movement coming from inside the room behind the door and when she heard footsteps nearing her, she took a half-step back. When the door opened, she skipped any greetings or pleasantries.<p>

"I'm in," she said, in lieu of a greeting.

Jesse didn't seem surprised to see her there. He seemed pleased and his thin yet oddly pink lips turned upwards into a grin that made Brittany think that maybe he really did have some mind-reading powers. He knew that she would come eventually.

"You're making the right choice, Brittany." He said, nodding his head in approval.

Brittany only prayed that she really was. At the back of her mind, she could hear Santana's impending disapproval and possible anger, but she ignored it. She promised Santana that she would do anything to get back to her. It seemed that joining the Career Pack, the most back-stabbing, betraying but skilled Tributes in the Games, would be Brittany's anything.

* * *

><p><strong>So that's chapter eleven. I hope you all liked it. Another shout-out goes out to manatees-have-thick-skin for being an awesome beta. Let me know what you all think :-) I'd love to hear what you all think of the chapter as well as Brittany's new alliance and about that mysterious pin that she found. What are your thoughts on Jesse? Can he be trusted or not? That is the real question ;-)<strong>

** If you have any questions or anything like that, just drop them in a review or a PM. Thanks for reading. **

**If you're Canadian, like me, I hope you have an amazing Victoria Day. Go watch fireworks or something. **


	12. Good Love and Protection

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Twelve: Good Love and Protection**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note: So this is long overdue, but it's here! Exam time was horrible and that's why this took so long. As a thank you for waiting so patiently, here is a 7k word chapter. Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>Santana's dark brown eyes darted around the empty hallway as she walked cautiously toward her room. She could feel her pulsing heart hammering in her chest and licked her dry lips nervously. She flattened her tongue against the tiny white pastille in her mouth and shut her eyes as she painfully swallowed it dry.<p>

She hoped that no one would come out into the hallway. They would know just by looking at her. She thought she heard something move to her left and tightened her grip on the small leather bag in her right hand. It felt like it was taking a fucking lifetime to get to her room. When she finally did stop outside of her room, she let out a deep breath.

She felt her heart slowing down and the burning heat in her cheeks was starting to disappear. The pill was taking effect. She turned around and let the back of her head hit the wall beside the door as she waited for her body to fully calm down and prepared herself to face Brittany. It was just Brittany. That was what she repeated to herself. No one else but her and Brittany. She heard the door knob shifting and pushed herself off of the wall just as Brittany opened the door.

"Hey," Santana said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"I thought you might've been… Never mind," Brittany shook her head. "What are you doing waiting out here?"

"I was just thinking," Santana replied, half-truthfully.

Brittany pushed the door open farther and Santana stepped into her immaculate room. She slid her coat off her arms and began to take her shoes off. The coat was immediately taken by Brittany who hung it in her closet with care. As Santana moved to sit on what Brittany had named 'her side of the bed', she tilted her head curiously at the blonde girl, who chewed her lip nervously still at the door.

"Britt? Something wrong?"

"No," Brittany said quickly. Her eyes darted to the side of the room and Santana followed her line of sight to the closet. "Sorry, I'm just… I'm fine."

"Whatever you say Britt," Santana murmured.

"What's in the bag?" Brittany wondered out loud.

Santana looked down at her clenched right hand. She had almost forgotten about the bag. She lay it out on the space on the bed in front of her and unfastened the clasp. She reached into the leather bag and pulled out six old fashioned DVD cases.

"These are video recordings of every Tribute's training sessions," Santana started off toying with the clasp on the bag. "They're for you to you know, check out the competition and stuff."

"Is that allowed? That seems like cheating." Brittany's forehead scrunched in thought.

"Well," Santana began, trying to think of a way to spin it. Technically, watching the videos wasn't not allowed, but having the videos was a different story. "You said you'd do anything to get back, right? I'd do anything to get you back. Just don't tell anyone you saw these."

"But, what about Puck? It's not really fair that I get to see these and not him."

Damn Brittany's good conscience.

"I know that it's not exactly fair but the more people who know about this, the more likely I am to get in trouble over this." The blonde seemed to be weighing the two options in her mind and Santana sighed watching her internal struggle. "Look, this is only a little bit cheating. Every one of the Careers has one and they've been watching them for weeks."

"Jesse did mention something about top secret videos…" Brittany trailed off.

"See? It's not cheating. It's just… Levelling the playing field."

Santana mentally cheered as Brittany tentatively opened one of the DVD cases, accepting the somewhat warped reasoning.

"Speaking of the Careers," Brittany traced the outline of the circular disk. "I kind of accepted Jesse's offer to join them."

"You accepted the offer," Santana repeated in disbelief. "To join the Career Pack."

"Are you mad?" Brittany asked tentatively. Yes. No. Maybe.

"No," Santana said. Brittany raised an eyebrow at her and Santana sighed. "I'm not. I'm surprised, but I'm not mad."

Santana's mind jumped to the other District Four Tribute. She had nearly forgotten about that deal that they made. Now that Brittany was supposedly a Career, things would get complicated with Puck. If Puck found out that Brittany ditched him, he would be livid. She would have no way of controlling what he did in the arena. She needed to reassure Puck that the deal was still on, just in different circumstances.

She looked down at her comforter and her eyes soon travelled to the various boxes splayed out in front of her. Even if Brittany now did have a _huge_ advantage, only one person would come out of that arena. When the right situation would arise and Brittany wasn't prepared, one of those backstabbing Careers would try to take her out. It was awful to think of and brought all of those horrifically graphic nightmares to Santana's head, but if she didn't prepare Brittany for that, she really would have no chance of winning.

"I know you think you're set in the arena but the thing about the Careers, is that eventually one of them will end up betraying everyone else," Santana spoke slowly, careful not to frighten Brittany.

"I know," Brittany said. "I've seen the Games too."

"I'm going to go over all of the footage, but especially the Careers. You need to know which one is going to go for it first and you need to be ready for it," Brittany nodded, soaking in the information like a sponge dipped in water. "This could put you at a huge advantage, but if you're ignorant to your surroundings, these kids will be deadly."

"Do we need to do it today?" Brittany interrupted. "I've had a really long day and I'm not really feeling up for it. Can we just wait until tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Santana thought of the next day's schedule in her head. "You have a fitting with Kurt but I can come and get you right after."

"Awesome," Brittany grinned.

Without warning, she threw her body backwards so that she flopped down on her side of the bed. Brittany then lifted her long legs in the air in front of Santana's leering face and pulled the comforter from under her, so that it would cover her long body. Santana just watched her and held back the huge smile that was fighting to break out onto her face.

"Well?" The blonde said expectantly without shifting from her position. "Aren't you going to come lay with me?"

"Sure," Santana drawled out. "But it's pretty early to be turning in for the night…"

Truthfully, Santana didn't want to sleep at all. A part of her was terrified that the nightmares would come back and that she'd do something stupid like talk in her sleep and Brittany would know what she was dreaming about. Another part of her knew that she didn't have much time left with Brittany before it would be time for her to go into the arena. She wanted to spend every second of that time looking into those deep, blue eyes. Not sleeping and envisioning her perfect body being torn to bits by some mutt.

"I'm not that tired. I just meant we can lie here and talk," Brittany scooted over and patted at the place beside her. "I'm going to miss talking to you more than anything, I think, so I better get my time in now."

Santana bit her lip as a huge smile threatened to split onto her face. She nodded cutely, but when she didn't move from her seat on the bed, Brittany's head popped up again.

"Come here," Brittany commanded, patting the place next to her with more force than before. "Right beside me; I can hear you better that way."

Santana lay down beside Brittany and she felt her whole body stiffen. She was as straight as a board, ironically enough, with her hands glued to her sides. Although her body had been laser-treated three years earlier, it felt like the hairs on her arms and legs were standing. Her eyes shifted around the ceiling, trying to find something to look at when she felt the tips of Brittany's fingers trace down her forearm. She inhaled deeply when the back of her nails ran across Santana's palm before Brittany laced their fingers together. The brunette felt calmed immediately and her whole stature seemed to loosen with Brittany's actions. Brittany's head was moving closer toward Santana until suddenly, her blonde head of hair was nestled in the space between Santana's neck and shoulder, with Santana's arm around her. Brittany swept the blanket over Santana's torso and sighed in content.

They had been falling asleep in that exact same position every night since that night when Brittany came to Santana's room crying. Still, she never failed to have the same reaction just from Brittany's proximity. It had been an unspoken promise that they wouldn't do anything sexual until Brittany came out of the arena alive. There was still that nagging doubt in both of their minds that told them that Brittany would go in and never come back out, and that same doubt made a huge part of Santana want to shower Brittany in kisses and affection every time she had her in her sight. But before she could succumb to her true desires, her rational side would kick in.

"I missed you today. I know I still saw you but I've been seeing you so much lately and it feels funny when you're not around. Maybe, I'm just being weird though," Brittany whispered as she looped her arms around Santana's neck.

Santana knew exactly what Brittany was talking about. She had spent most of the past few weeks attached to Brittany's hip, whether they be training or cuddling or even eating. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she would do when Brittany was in the arena. Being in there was hard but at least she knew that Brittany was at home, safe. She would drive herself crazy watching Brittany in the Games.

"Where's your head?" Brittany shifted slightly so that she was searching Santana's eyes. "You're so distracted."

Santana was silent, but returned Brittany's intense stare.

_Don't leave me_, she wanted to say to her. _Don't ever leave this moment._

Brittany seemed to understand exactly what Santana was trying to say. She snuggled deeper into Santana's neck and curled her body against the shorter girl. Santana felt Brittany's warm, steady breathing on her skin pulled Brittany closer to her. She leaned her head forward, screwed her eyes shut tightly and placed a tender kiss to the crown of Brittany's head.

"You know," Brittany murmured against Santana's neck. "I dream about you a lot."

"You don't get enough of me when you're awake?" Santana teased the girl and tried to ignore that her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest for reasons both good and bad. She hoped that Brittany's dreams were nothing like her own.

"Nope, I never get enough of you," Brittany bit cheekily. "Seriously though. It's really nice. We're just doing stuff like this, you know, hanging out, but in a whole different world. We're not in the Capitol or even back home in District Four. There's no Panem. We're in a whole different universe and everything is so different, but it's all so the same. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of," Santana replied, lifting their intertwined fingers in front of her face and toying with them.

"Like, everything was so different. There was no home or anything, but everywhere I dream of feels like home. The whole world is always so different but you and I are always the same. It's kind of stupid though."

Santana thought that she could literally feel her heart melting in her chest. Brittany always said the right things and Santana wasn't sure that the other girl even meant it. She just always knew what to say to her.

"That's actually pretty amazing," Santana whispered, dropping their joint hands on Brittany's upper arm. She lazily traced unintelligible shapes and letters on the smooth skin.

They remained like that for a few minutes. Santana was comforted just by Brittany's presence and Brittany seemed to be soaking in all of Santana. Santana could have sworn that she could hear the steady metronome-like pulsing of their heartbeats in unison.

"What about you?" Brittany spoke quietly after a few minutes of silence. "I hear you sleep-talking sometimes."

"It's nothing," Santana said reflexively. "I don't."

"You said my name once." Brittany said, quietly. "The other day."

Santana's fingers that were just tracing tiny letters on Brittany's arm froze with the rest of her body. She couldn't have. Santana hoped that Brittany would drop it. She didn't want to talk about it. Those nightmares were not something that she liked to talk about. They were something that she swept away into the deepest corner of her mind, only to be denied existence. She knew that Brittany was being so damn honest, but it's different. Santana didn't dream about happy things and being together, no matter what the circumstances. In fact, she dreamt of just the opposite. She didn't want to tell Brittany but she felt compelled to.

"It's not... It's not like yours," Santana cleared her throat as her voice cracked nervously. "I just have these bad dreams sometimes."

Brittany shifted against Santana's so that she was leaning back on her elbows and studying Santana's facial expressions.

"Bad dreams?" she said, tiny wrinkles appearing on her forehead.

"It's not that bad," Santana dismissed the topic, shrugging and shaking her head. "I just dream of, like, you in the arena."

"What am I doing?"

Santana felt her throat dry up and tighten. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't form words. She couldn't even think of what she could say to Brittany. She couldn't possibly tell Brittany what she dreamed of. She couldn't ever recount the horrors of her dreams to Brittany. It was unimaginable.

Brittany turned her head away from Santana and tightened her lips together in a frown. Santana felt her heart begin to race. She knew that Brittany was putting together what went unsaid. She hoped that she understood, but in a strange way she also hoped that she didn't. Brittany shouldn't have to know about the disgusting images that terrorize Santana at night.

"I'm here," Brittany whispered, finally.

"For now," Santana said, fighting to hide her feelings of premature loss.

"Maybe," Brittany agreed. "But I'm still here."

Santana felt Brittany curl into her body. The blonde tightened her arms around Santana and tucked her head into Santana's neck again. Santana let out a deep sigh and once again, softly pressed her lips to Brittany's hairline. Brittany mimicked her action, lightly kissing Santana's neck and Santana smiled at the intimacy.

"Sleep," Brittany breathed out against Santana's neck. "I'm right here, holding onto you."

Santana nodded and swallowed the thick lump in her throat. Her eyelids fluttered shut and tightened her arm around Brittany, holding her closer to her body. She was right there.

* * *

><p>Santana woke up with a quick sideways jerk of her head, hitting her chin on the top of Brittany's head. She cringed at both the fleeting pain and the thought of waking the tall blonde from her calm sleep, but she could not have possibly helped her surprise. She didn't have a nightmare. She looked over at the digital clock and saw that it was the early afternoon. She couldn't even remember the last time she had slept in this late.<p>

She pressed her lips to Brittany's forehead apologetically and the girl began to stir. Santana could only watch in amusement as Brittany's facial expression began to change. Her eyes tightened and her forehead scrunched up and the corners of her lips turned downward into a frown. Then, brilliant blue eyes appeared and twinkled in recognition of the girl above her.

"Morning," Brittany said in a scratchy voice. She turned her head to the clock on the desk, chuckled and corrected herself. "Afternoon. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept amazing, Britt," Santana smiled in affection.

"Awesome," Brittany grinned lazily and Santana found a similar smile on her face at Brittany's effortless beauty. "How long until I have to be downstairs for my fitting?"

Santana shifted her gaze away from the beautiful girl below her to the large digital clock mounted on the desk.

"Technically, not for another hour, but you should probably get down there now. You know how anal Kurt gets sometimes,"

"Not really, and I'm not sure I ever want to know," Brittany quipped with mock-horror plastered on her glowing face.

"You're so gross," Santana jokingly pushed at Brittany's arm, which only made Brittany laugh and tighten her grip on her.

"Can't we just stay here and relax?" Brittany whined, burying her face into Santana's neck. "Seriously, is it really necessary for Kurt to take my measurements for every event I have?"

"No, we can't," Santana answered her first question before moving onto the second. "And I think he's doing it on purpose. You've had so many events for the Games and you're so blank in each one. It's part of our strategy, but Kurt doesn't know that. I think he might be setting up all these fittings to try to convince you to like charm the Capitol."

"_That_," Brittany frowned. "Is gross."

"Either way," Santana pushed at Brittany's back so that they were both seated. It was as if Santana's hand had a mind of its own. It came up in front of her face and tucked a few stray blonde hairs out of Brittany's face. "You better get going."

"Walk me down?"

When Brittany looked at Santana with her big blue eyes, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth and a cute smile on her face, it was impossible for her to say 'no'. Not that she had ever wanted to, anyways.

"Hey!"

Santana heard a hiss from behind her as she walked away from the dressing room and the familiar noise of Brittany and Kurt babbling. That better not be that fucking stupid nosy idiot, Jacob.

"Santana!"

She whipped her head around at the insistent voice. She was completely ready to cut Jacob's unattractive afro with her vicious words. Instead of a red Jewfro, she was met with the charming piece of roadkill that sat atop Noah Puckerman's head. The boy was hanging half-out of a service closet. When he caught her eye, he motioned with his hand, asking her to come closer to him. Santana rolled her eyes at how fucking sketchy he was being but still walked into the closet. Puck slammed the door shut behind her.

"Were you ever going to tell me that Brittany got recruited into the Careers"? Puck crossed his arms over his chest and Santana almost laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

"Why would I do that?" Santana said expectantly, mimicking his pose.

Actually, she had been thinking earlier that she would have to have this exact conversation with Puck. She needed to reaffirm that the deal was not off. She knew that Puck would be thinking that it was. Logically, Brittany was part of the Career Pack and she didn't need his protection any more. But Puck had never been in the arena and he had no idea how ever-changing it was. Santana still needed him to play his role.

"The deal." He whispered loudly, his eyes darting around the clearly empty room, and she rolled her eyes at him. "What's happening with it now?"

"The deal's still on. You go into that arena and go Jack the Ripper on anyone that seems like they could be a problem for either of you," she said, feigning nonchalance.

"Okay, but what if she gets killed? I won't be with her anymore so if she gets hurt, there's nothing I can do about it. Are you still going to… Is the deal still on if she-"

"She won't," Santana snapped in panic. "You just do what you're supposed to do."

"I've watched the Games every year since I was ten. I've seen your Games. You weren't supposed to win and you did. Expect the unexpected, right? Don't write anyone off because nothing's a sure thing in there, right?" He said it with hopeful eyes.

He was right. He could win if he tried. He could win if he had hope. But he couldn't win. So she knew that she needed to stop it.

"No," she snapped again. "If you really want something done, you do what you need to do to make it happen. Fucking make it a sure thing."

They stood in face-off, neither one of them even blinking. Santana stared intensely into deep hazel eyes, trying to force him into submission. He finally looked away with a disbelieving shake of his head and nodded.

"Fine." He said, voice dripping with contempt.

She let a tiny smirk play at the corner of her lips before she jumped at the rapping noise of the closet door. Her eyes darted from Puck to the door and then back to Puck. He shrugged, sharing the look of panic on her face, and gestured at her to answer it.

"I'm not answering it, you answer it," she hissed.

She tried to divert thoughts of Brittany being the on the other side of the door from her mind. She tried to think of a quick lie to tell that wouldn't hurt Brittany, but came up dry.

"Santana, are you in there?"

Santana let out a deep sigh of relief at shrill voice on the other side of the door.

"I'll be right out, Rach," she called out before turning back to Puck. "You come out in two minutes. No one can know about this, got it?"

"Got it," he answered immediately.

She was about to leave but a nagging feeling in her chest stopped her.

"One more thing, Puckerman," she started slowly. "Call Brittany stupid again and I'll rip your tongue out of your throat and shove it up your tight ass."

She opened the door, but only enough for her to slide out into the hall and smile at Rachel. Rachel's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and although Santana had greeted her, she stared at the door like she could see through it.

"Who's in there?" Rachel said, ignoring the slightly taller brunette's greeting.

Santana rolled her eyes and grabbed at Rachel's elbow. She pulled her down the hallway and into the conveniently already open elevator doors.

"Puckerman," Santana whispered, although someone could hear them. She couldn't rule out the option that maybe someone was. She pressed at the button for their floor. "We were talking."

"About the deal?" Rachel clarified and Santana nodded. Rachel went from calm to angry in about half a second and hit Santana on the arm. "In a closet? A few metres away from Brittany? And Kurt? God, Santana, what if Dave happened to be strolling down the hall?"

"I don't know, okay," Santana said. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"Not a big deal?" Rachel repeated loudly in disbelief.

The sound of the elevator pinging as it reached their floor broke Rachel out of her emotion-based rant. The two girls stepped out of the elevator and Rachel took a dramatically deep breath to collect herself. Santana scoffed at the other girl's dramatics and shook her head, leaving Rachel standing at the elevator as she made her way to her room.

She heard a familiar light patter of feet coming from behind her and prepared herself for what she was sure to be an incredibly irritating lecture.

"Santana, you know I don't agree with what you're doing. It's unfair on so many levels and I-"

"Unfair? Nothing about this shit is fair so don't give me your little Capitol girl bullshit about fair," Santana spat angrily. What the fuck did Rachel know?

"I'm sorry," Rachel responded carefully. "You're right, but I still don't agree with what you're doing and you know that but I just wished that you'd at least be more careful with your dealings because anyone could have really-"

"I get it, Rachel," Santana said, turning to face the girl as she reached her room. She turned to face the door again and with a quick motion of her card key, she opened her door and entered her room. "Did you go through the tapes?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded and followed her into the room. "I compiled a series of notes, about two pages long, for each Tribute. I've paid special detail to mental and physical components, but also paid close attention to their emotional capacities. I've also drawn pictures."

"I have never been so thankful for your creepy stalking abilities," Santana muttered under her breath.

"Note-taking abilities," Rachel corrected, unbothered by the familiar wittiness. Santana laughed as Rachel procured a thick red notebook, seemingly out of thin air. She held it out and Santana took it.

"Wow," Santana chuckled as she, now seated on the bed, flipped through the pages. "These are quite… meticulous."

"I'm glad you can find humour in such a bleak situation," Rachel commented.

"One-A, Jesse St. James," Santana murmured as she quickly scanned through the notes. "So…"

"He's very skilled," Rachel summarized. "As well as quite handsome and he seems to have made a very good impression on the people, but…"

"But?"

"He won't be the one to worry about. He seems to have been plotting the entirety of the Games so that he'll come out victorious but he seemed almost honourable in the tapes. Not to mention that he's a complete control freak. If things don't go his way, he'll panic," Rachel finished. Santana nodded in understanding. What Rachel meant was that she didn't think that he would be the first to betray the others. But honour could only last so long in a tribute. "The girl, on the other hand…"

"The orca whale? She's the one to watch?" Santana snorted in laughter, remembering the first time she had seen the overweight Tribute.

"One-B, Lauren Zizes," Rachel corrected. "She's very strong. She's obviously not the fastest and she doesn't have great stamina, but she's strong. Apparently, she won her school's wrestling tournament. And she competed in the male category. She'll be able to snap a bone with her bare hands."

"I could kill her," Santana commented. "If I saw her at the Cornucopia, I could rip her throat out before she has a chance to touch me. So could anyone else."

"Yes, but Santana, if she survives that bloodbath…" Rachel trailed off and Santana knew that it was because she didn't want to make her worried.

"I get it," Santana nodded. "But Lauren's downfalls are Brittany's strengths. Maybe Brittany can't snap a bone in the blink of an eye, but she can sneak behind her with a long-range weapon when she least expects it."

"And how do you suppose she would do that? She won't be able to use anything if you're only teaching her self-defence," Rachel pointed out.

"She'll know what to do when the time comes. She's a fisherman's daughter just like I am. She knows how to use a knife and a fishing pole is just like a javelin. Don't underestimate her," Santana advised, becoming defensive at Rachel's subtle attack.

"Can we move on?" Rachel sighed. Santana knew that the girl was smart and she knew how to pick her battles. She nodded in agreement. "Two-A, Mike Chang. Peak physical form, incredibly smart."

"Sounds like a typical Career to me," Santana muttered, reading through Rachel's colour-coded notes.

"What's different about Mike Chang is that he lacks the usual arrogance of Careers," Rachel explained, pointing at her pristine handwritten notes. "That puts him above the others. But he's been talking to a lot of the other Tributes and he doesn't seem to have bad intentions. He seems too sensitive to be the first to crack, but he'll see the signs and he'll know when to leave or strike before it happens."

"Okay," Santana nodded, taking in the information. "And the last one?"

"Two-B, Suzy Pepper," Rachel recited off memory. "I think she's literally insane. I actually called a friend that works in a hospital in District Two and asked them to pull her medical records just to be sure. She's not clinically insane, but she seems like it from the tapes. She's not fast or strong, but she's been excelling in survival skills. She has a huge knowledge of plants, both poisonous and edible. I wouldn't put it past her to drug someone. She's truly unpredictable."

"So what you're saying is," Santana trailed off, leaving the statement for Rachel to finish.

"Every one of them is a huge risk to be around," Rachel said grimly.

Usually of the four Careers, it was obvious who would be the top pick or at least who the top two were. There was always clearly a stand-out of the group. Knowing that Rachel, the most insanely particular person that she knew, couldn't pick out a definite number one concerned Santana. She hoped that Brittany just trusted her instincts and would act on them.

She continued to flip through the notebook, with Rachel looking over her shoulder and adding little insignificant details in as she read along. She let her mind soak in everything from the shockingly accurate sketches to mannerisms to physical abilities and mentally recorded a list of what Tributes were worth telling Brittany about. Over half of these twenty-four kids wouldn't last through the first night.

Santana let out a deep sigh and stretched her arms over her head, reaching for the ceiling. She looked over to her clock and saw that she and Rachel had been in her little room for over an hour.

"What do you even do here? Aren't you just supposed to like do my hair and stuff? Where could you possibly need to be?" Santana said flippantly, aware of how long the two of them had been pouring over the notes.

"Believe it or not, I have a very strict schedule that I diligently follow every single day and this little task that you sent me on, as well as this pointless conversation, has me behind by seven hours that I will have to get back by cutting down my allotted bathroom time," Rachel stood up and began to move towards the door. She recognized a dismissal when she received one.

"Keep the notes," Rachel said as she left the room. "I have a photocopies."

"Oh, I bet you do," Santana whispered under her breath, now alone in the room.

Santana was lost in the last page of Rachel's notes when she heard a beeping noise at her door. Her wary eyes shot up in panic and her whole body tensed up as she watched the door knob turn slowly.

"Santana?"

The girl sighed in relief as Brittany's head appeared in the doorway.

"Hey," Santana said. She glanced over at the clock and saw that it was almost seven in the evening. "Shit, sorry Britt. I didn't mean to forget you; I just kind of got lost in all this."

Santana gestured to the now ripped out papers spread around her and Brittany just laughed. She shed her coat and shoes and plopped down behind her. She reasoned that it was because the papers were taking up Brittany's usual spot but that didn't change the way her whole body shivered.

"It's fine, San," Brittany chided as she adjusted herself comfortably against the pillows. Santana felt a smile pulling at her lips when she heard the nickname. "I got to talk to Kurt and I saw Jesse, so it's cool. I even got to talk to Puck. He was being super-nice and he even apologized, you know, for yesterday."

"Good," Santana snapped bitterly but changed her tone once she remembered who she was talking to. She turned her head to look at Brittany behind her and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I just don't want people to say rude things about you, Britt. Especially lies. You're not stupid."

"Thanks," Brittany mumbled shyly, looking down. She shook her hair out of her face and rested her head down on Santana's right shoulder. Curious blue eyes scanned the colour-coded writing. "What are you doing?"

"Just going through my notes on the Tributes," Santana explained as she began arranging the papers back in order.

"_Your_ notes?" Brittany questioned with a cheeky grin.

"Okay," Santana conceded. "Rachel's notes. But she wrote two pages per Tribute so I'm condensing them."

"Rachel's pretty cool," Brittany observed aloud. "Are you guys close?"

Santana shrugged. She had an… interesting relationship with Rachel. At first she had loathed the girl, but some things just make people closer. For Santana and Rachel it was a drunken night in which Santana sobbed about missing Brittany and Rachel embarassingly hit on that one tall, awkward Avox guy.

"We are," Santana decided. "Sometimes I want to shove her down a toilet and feed her to the sewer monsters but most of the time she's good to talk to. It's hard to make friends here. Especially since it's so… somber."

"What do you mean?" Brittany spoke directly into Santana's ear.

"It's hard to explain," Santana said. The truth was she didn't want to explain it to Brittany. It might worry her.

"Just try," Brittany whispered. That had pretty much made Santana's mind.

"Kids come here every year and then they're gone in two seconds. I've met all those people, you know. That's about seventy people I've seen, talked to, and shared meals with. Then they leave on a plane and never come back."

Brittany didn't say anything; she just lay her head down so that her ear was pressed against Santana's shoulder and wrapped her arms around Santana's torso. Santana knew that she understood. She didn't need to hear it.

"Hey," Santana said softly, shifting in Brittany's hold. "We should go over this stuff."

"Later," Brittany deflected and tightened her hold on Santana. "Or tomorrow."

"That's what you said yesterday," Santana rolled her eyes.

"Okay, well, just tell me the most important thing today and then we can go over the rest of it another time,"

Santana knew that Brittany had won the battle. She shuffled through the papers until she found the first few and began scanning the information once again. She pressed the papers to her chest and turned to meet Brittany's eyes. She held her gaze and mentally prepared herself. She needed to go straight to the point. She couldn't soften the harsh reality of her new allies, but soon-to-be enemies.

"Okay, the Careers," Santana began. "You ready?"

Brittany nodded and straightened herself so that she could read the sheets over Santana's shoulder. Santana lifted the sheets from her chest and straightened them out.

"I like the picture," Brittany whispered and giggled at Rachel's extremely accurate likeness of Jesse. "It makes him look more like a retriever puppy than usual."

"Yeah, I guess," Santana frowned, tilting her head to the side and holding the sheet away from her face. She had thought that Jesse looked more like shockingly like a poodle in desperate need of a haircut. "Anyways, Rachel has, like, a whole essay on each of these chumps so I kind of cut it down to about five lines. Jesse is good. He's strong and fast and smart and pretty damn charming."

"Yup," Brittany added in at the end.

"He's also a major control freak. He's planned out the whole Games to work in his favour and if one thing goes wrong, which will happen around the first minute, he'll freak. He won't know what to do and that leaves him a sitting duck for everyone else. He may seem like the leader of the group, but he won't be by the end of the first night," Santana said, looking over the paper for anything she might've missed. Her eyes landed on the perfectly-aligned chart on the second page. "And his preferred weapon is a spear. He likes long distance weapons because, well, he doesn't want to get his well-moisturized hands dirty."

"Okay, so Jesse's good but kind of crazy," Brittany nodded in understanding. "Who's next?"

"Lauren Zizes," Santana recalled, flipping to the next page of notes. "She's definitely something. She's about the size of a prepubescent orca whale and her weight definitely slows her down."

"But she's a Career for a reason," Brittany noted and Santana smiled proudly at her recognition.

"She's ruthless, not to mention, she's strong as hell," Santana conceded. "According to Rachel's notes, she can bench press like 150 pounds."

"That's more than I weigh," Brittany whistled. Santana heard the concern in her voice.

"Yeah, but she's shit at distance," Santana tried to comfort Brittany. "You could run away before she could lift a finger. Don't even worry about her."

Brittany nodded again, but Santana knew that she was still thinking. She had the look on her face where forehead was wrinkly and her eyebrows were raised. She was worried.

"Next," Santana cleared her throat. "Is Michael Chang. Typical Career, preferred weapon is a good old machete. He's smart and strong and fast, like Jesse, but he's pretty sensitive. Rachel's seen him talking to other Tributes and being all friendly and stuff. She doesn't think it's an act. Other than that, he has everything he needs to win, including the drive."

When Brittany didn't respond, Santana first took it as a sign of understanding and started to turn the page, but when she took in the curious look on the blonde's face, she stopped her movements. Brittany seemed to snap out of her daze and finally met Santana's questioning eyes.

"I was just thinking," Brittany trailed off. "It's kind of stupid."

"No," Santana said, almost too quickly. "Tell me?"

"Uh," Brittany's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. "I was just thinking that I should try to be friends with him. If he's sensitive or whatever, he won't kill someone he's friends with right?"

"Yeah," Santana nodded, fighting a smile to keep the mood serious. She cleared her throat again. "Suzy Pepper. She's a complete fucking nutcase, but she's also really freaking smart. Nothing special in terms of, you know, physical skills, but she's memorized the plants and stuff. She knows what's poisonous and what's safe. I don't want you to trust her."

"Why?"

"Because," Santana sighed. "She might poison your water or drug your food or something. I don't want to take any chances. Don't take anything they give you if you don't see it."

"So," Brittany began. "You're basically telling me that I can't trust any of them?"

"You couldn't really to begin with." She saw Brittany's lips twitch slightly, in resistance. "What?"

"They sound really dangerous," Brittany said. "I don't know, maybe I was safer with Puck."

Santana raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open in disbelief. She scooted up the bed and turned around so that she was facing Brittany.

"You can't change your mind now," Santana said raising her voice a little bit.

"I know that," Brittany snapped, shocking Santana by matching her tone. "I was just saying."

She added the last part on in quiet, timid voice that immediately made Santana regret snapping at her.

"Brittany, I'm sorry but you have to realize that there's no turning back," Santana reasoned. She reached across and wrapped her fingers around Brittany's. For a second, she thought that Brittany would pull away and sighed in relief when she didn't.

"I know," Brittany whispered, looking down. "I told Jesse that I would join him and I can't take it back, but I didn't think that this would be so like complicated."

"Britt," Santana breathed out. "You don't deserve this."

"That won't stop it from happening though."

"No," Santana agreed. She tightened her grip on Brittany's hands, forcing blue eyes to lock on her own. "Britt, they'll offer you protection and shelter, but you know there's only one winner. You can't stay with them forever."

"I know," Brittany said, almost inaudibly.

"I trust your judgement and there's going to come a time when you're not going to feel right," Santana began, her heart filled with unease. She really didn't want to say it. "I need you to trust your heart and when it feels wrong, you need to leave. Run and if you can, you need to…"

She couldn't finish it. It was odd how troubling she found it just to say the words. She didn't know how the hell she would watch it.

"I don't think I can," Brittany admitted. "I know that I'll probably have to and I know that I technically can but I don't think I'll be able do it. I don't want to."

"Nobody wants to, Britt," Santana said.

They all did eventually.

* * *

><p><strong>So this chapter didn't really have a lot going on, but it really sets up part two of the story (which is coming soon). Sorry again about the long wait. Also, thanks to my awesome beta manatees-have-thick-skin. Tell me what you think in a review :)<strong>

**Anonymous review replies**

**Brittana Freak: Yes, I am not at all fond of Will. He's just... No... I literally can't even watch his scenes.**

**hemomylove: Sorry for taking so long, but here it is :)**

**lara: Thank you :)**


	13. What It Means To Win

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Thirteen: What It Means To Win**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note: **Sorry it took so long. My beta sent this back almost a week ago, but my Internet is so shit right now...

* * *

><p>Brittany ran her fingers over the silky peach material that was resting flat on her bed. Soft blue eyes rested on the fitted bodice before trailing down the long, flowing skirt of the dress. Her eyes, once again, caught on the tiny blue piece of paper that was clipped onto the garment bag beside the dress and she seemed to reread the words on it over and over again.<p>

_For the dinner this evening. I bet you'll look beautiful. See you tonight._

_-S_

It wasn't really anything special. She'd heard a dozen people call her beautiful since she arrived at the Capitol and about a dozen more back at home (not including her parents) who did the same. It was just a little note and it shouldn't make her feel as happy as it did.

But logic flew out the window the moment she saw the tiny heart doodle beside the '_S'_. Maybe she was looking too much into it, but she was pretty sure that Santana loved her. She had said it countless times before Santana's whole self-sacrifice/fight-to-the-death incident three years prior and Brittany was sure that sometimes when they were just talking in Santana's room or when they were training, Santana wanted to say it.

It wasn't like some big secret or anything. Brittany loved Santana. Santana loved Brittany. It would be pretty simple if it wasn't for Brittany's self-sacrifice/fight-to-the-death incident. It would be so much easier if they were just back at home or in another world. Or at least Brittany liked to think so.

Anyway, it was pretty clear in Brittany's mind that Santana sent her this awesome dress that probably cost more than her whole house to wear at the Tribute dinner because she loved her so much. Brittany had forgotten about the dinner until she found the dress in her room after coming up from her latest weapons training session with Santana. Now that she thought about it, Santana was acting strangely throughout their exercises and seemed to scramble away towards her room just when Brittany was about to invite her into her own. She remembered that Santana would ask a few scattered questions about the dinner every few minutes but Brittany just shrugged them off, thinking she had a hell of a lot more time to worry about it.

When did a six weeks turn into two days? It felt like only yesterday that Brittany was watching the vast countryside landscape turn into the huge buildings of the Capitol from that speeding train. But in only forty-eight hours, Brittany would be in the arena. Santana had told her that this whole dinner thing was pretty nice. Apparently there was a lot of expensive food and desserts that Santana said were invented just for that dinner, and while desserts were some of Brittany's favourite things, she just couldn't get excited about it. Santana had told her that when she went, everyone was really nice to each other and it was good to feel normal for one night. That was probably the point of the whole thing.

It still felt pretty ridiculous to Brittany. She was supposed to have a nice dinner with a bunch of kids that she was going to try to kill two days later. It seemed like a horrible idea to her. It would be so much easier to just not show up and pretend that none of them exist or have families or weird habits or anything normal like that.

The dinner would provide her with a good opportunity to not only scope out the competition but to initiate 'Plan: Be Friends With Mike Chang So He Doesn't Kill You'. That was her main focus for the night. Well, that and to make sure that Jesse still liked her. That was pretty damn important too. Or at least that's what Santana said.

The rest of those kids would just fade away eventually, she had said. It was a chess match between Careers and their sponsors. All they cared about was making money and scaring the districts into submission. They were always successful. No one made any money or scared anyone by pulling for the underdog.

Brittany had said, at that point, that she was the underdog, to which Santana refuted with a series of well-supported arguments that Brittany really didn't listen to at all. She _was_ the underdog. Most of Panem had probably already written her off to be dead by the first night. But she would prove them wrong. She had to.

With reluctance, Brittany left her room, carrying the dress with her and a pair of heels that looked horribly uncomfortable and impossible to walk in. Brittany made her way down the hall, past Dave and Mags' rooms, past Santana's room, and to the stylists' room.

Brittany didn't really feel like getting primped by her stylists today. She loved hearing Kurt babble about Capitol fashion so quickly that it sounded like he was speaking another tongue and listening to Mercedes make fun of people or sometimes sing in an effortless sort of way was awesome, but Rachel kind of annoyed her. Sure, she was Santana's friend and all, but there was just something about her that Brittany didn't like.

The door opened as soon as she stepped in front of the stylists' room.

"Brittany! I've been expecting you!" Rachel greeted her with a huge smile.

"Are you psychic?" Brittany deadpanned, tongue-in-cheek as Rachel pulled her into the room by her arm.

"I once bent a spoon with my mind, but I've tried mind-reading and it really isn't my forte," Rachel admitted, shaking her head.

Rachel went to shut the door behind her and as if she was clinging onto the hallway outside as a life raft, Brittany peered through the thin crack in the doorframe that only got smaller as Rachel pushed the door closed. Just before the door shut, a flash of dark chestnut hair swept along the tiny crack in the door and a small figure walked quickly down the hall.

Brittany mentally drew a map of the floor she had been living on for the past six weeks in her mind. There was only one more room on the floor past this one. It was Puck's. She wasn't sure why she had an odd feeling in her stomach, because Santana was Santana and she loved Brittany but something about Puck had been bothering Brittany.

It had been bothering her for a long time. It was the way he would switch between being happy after a training session to looking like he could jump off the roof (if he even knew it was there). It was the way Brittany could feel like he was watching her all the time but had no idea why. It was the way that even after they got in that huge fight that dissolved the alliance that Brittany hadn't known to even exist. She wasn't sure why Puck was acting so strangely, but she was sure of one thing. She didn't want him around Santana.

* * *

><p>As the other Tributes began to wander amongst each other and introduce themselves, Brittany couldn't help but find herself alone. She knew that sometimes people used this dinner as a last minute opportunity to form alliances and that's what a lot of people were doing.<p>

That's what Puck was doing. He was sitting in the far corner of the room with Artie and his district partner and was apparently vested in a very intriguing conversation, judging by his facial expressions and over-the-top gesturing. Maybe they were talking about her and their wicked plan to kill her before she got the chance to even do anything.

Brittany scanned around the room for any of the Careers, but despite Rachel's detailed drawings, she could not remember what they looked like, save Jesse. The curly-haired boy was sipping a glass of something really expensive and probably really strong and sitting in one of the end seats of the table, where the Careers usually sat, as Santana told her. He wasn't really doing much but watching the other Tributes, but the intense look on his face made Brittany stay standing at the door where she was and not approach him.

"Hey," Brittany heard an unfamiliar voice whisper from behind her. She whipped around in surprise and saw a tall, athletic boy with pitch black hair. She suddenly remembered him as 'Two-A' in Rachel's notes. He held out a strong hand in front of him and let it linger in the air. Brittany took it and shook the boy's hand. "You're Brittany, right? Jesse told me about you."

"Yeah," she responded right away and let go of his hand.

"Michael," he pointed at himself with his thumbs. "You can call me Mike. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Brittany," she replied quickly, before realizing that he had already said her name and flushing a light shade of pink. She avoided his face and instead chose to glance over Mike's outfit, with subtlety. He was wearing a black tuxedo that had slightly lighter lapels and a black bowtie. Brittany was sure that if she reached out to touch his jacket, she would feel expensive and soft velvet material.

"It's cool," Mike laughed, scuffing the toe of his shiny black dress shoes on the floor. "It's these things, you know. They get me all weird, too. I mean, I'm from District Two and I've never seen some of this food in my life."

"Imagine how I feel," Brittany nodded and her face lit up. "I think I ate a toothpick about ten minutes ago. I may be internally bleeding and something like that kind of ruins a girl's appetite."

Mike let out a raucous laugh and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Brittany thought that he looked, at that moment, like nothing more than a young boy. She felt regret and remorse for something that she hadn't even done yet in the back of her mind.

"You're pretty funny, Brittany," Mike commented.

He looked around at the rest of the Tributes, who either seemed very unnerved by the pair standing by the door or pretended not to notice and carried on with their conversations. Brittany had to admit that they were a really odd pair. One of the favourites to win standing with the girl that everyone dismissed as a goner within the first two minutes. And to top it all off, they were laughing and joking around. Brittany suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Hey," Mike started off, looking as uncomfortable as Brittany felt. "I'm not so hungry either. We snuck some food from back home and I had the rest of it upstairs. Do you wanna get out of here and have some fun?"

"Uh," Brittany trailed off, not knowing what to say.

She knew she was supposed to be solidifying her alliances at this dinner and not running away to fool around. She could almost hear Santana scolding her about it. But then again, she was supposed to make friends with Mike. She could justify that getting out of that dinner and having some fun would help with the whole bonding thing. But she didn't want to disappoint Santana.

"Come on," Mike urged in a light, playful voice. "You know you want to."

Brittany knew that she really should not have been considering the idea as much as she was. She couldn't disappoint Santana. She promised to get back to her and that's what she was going to do. But at the back of Brittany's mind, she heard Santana's voice whispering about how it was her last chance to try and feel normal for one more night. Feeling normal would not come from sitting around at some really fancy and expensive table and eating really fancy and expensive food.

Brittany would do what she would have done back at home. Ditch to hang out and go swimming with Sam. Except instead of her best friend, it was this guy she just met that would possibly kill her in a few days. And instead of swimming… Well, she wasn't quite sure what exactly they were going to do. But, she didn't care. She would do it anyways. She was sure that Santana would want her to do it, too. Or at least, that's what she told herself to make her feel better.

"Okay," Brittany whispered with a growing smile.

* * *

><p>They had been running around aimlessly, avoiding security guards and the questioning glances of a few brave Avoxes, for what seemed like either a lifetime or a minute. Brittany really wasn't sure which one. It was interesting, because oddly enough, it felt like both at the same time. They made their way down a long hallway and Brittany thought that if they ran any longer, her feet would fall off. Luckily, Mike stopped abruptly in front of a door that was slightly shorter than the rest in the huge building and swivelled his head, looking around the empty hallway. They were alone.<p>

"I want to show you something," Mike said, as he pushed the door open.

He walked right into the room like he was walking into his home or something similar and gestured at Brittany to join him. The room was dark and the only light seemed to be coming from the tiny sliver of space between the door and the doorframe that Brittany was currently standing in. That tiny piece of light seemed to travel along the floor and up the far wall of the room. It was sketchy enough, going into a dark room with a Career, but Brittany followed Mike into the center of the room. After a few seconds of silence, an unfamiliar whirring sound was heard in the air and suddenly, the room was illuminated.

Brittany had never seen anything like it. The floor was covered in a glossy hardwood flooring from wall to wall. The far wall wasn't really a wall at all, but a giant mirror that stretched from corner to corner and floor to ceiling. In front of that wall, there was a sort of thick wooden bar held up by poles. It wasn't much really. It was a simple room, especially compared to the rest of the building. Something about it made Brittany's heart beat faster.

"Do you know what it is?" Mike spoke as he approached the bar and let his fingers drag over the smooth wood. Brittany shook her head and although Mike was not even turned to her, he seemed to know that she wouldn't answer. "It's a dance studio."

A dance studio. Brittany knew about dance. People (usually elderly people) would listen to music, sometimes slow and sometimes fast, and move together, in a dreamy sort of rhythm. It was a simple enough concept but for some strange reason it intimidated Brittany.

"We never had much free time back home, with all of our training, but whenever we did… My parents made me a room like this in our house. We told people it was for training. So I could check my form and stuff, you know?" Mike lightly knocked his fist on the wooden bar, nostalgically. "But my mom would wake me up earlier before school started sometimes and we'd go in the room and just… Sway. I started doing it by myself a little while later. It was almost like everything else faded away. You know what I mean?"

Brittany's mind jumped to that morning before the Reaping. She thought about floating in that water, staring up at the sun, and soaking everything in. It was so quiet. She had never noticed how quiet it used to be, but now she couldn't think of anything but.

"Yeah, I do," she replied, knowingly.

"I don't know what one of these is doing in a place like this. I heard they used to have a ball-type thing instead of a dinner so maybe they used this room to practice dancing. I don't really know. All I know is that when I heard that tonight was supposed to be about feeling normal for one last time, all I wanted to do is dance with my mom one more time."

Brittany wasn't Mike's mom, but she figured that maybe she could dance with him. If that's what Mike needed to do to feel normal, she would do it. She wasn't really sure why because she knew more than well that she would have to conspire against him in the arena. But for some reason, in that moment, she didn't want anything other than to make Mike feel normal.

"Do you want to dance with me?" Brittany asked, with a small smile.

Mike's face turned into one of hope and then one of embarrassment. The skin of his cheeks flushed a soft pink and he shook his head, looking down at his feet.

"I didn't mean… I was just saying," he mumbled.

When he scuffed his shiny black dress shoes on the hardwood flooring of the dance studio, Brittany thought that, although she had only known him a few minutes, he had never looked younger. With his pink cheeks, playfully styled hair, and quirking thin lips, he was the vision of a young boy. It was then that Brittany became painfully aware that he was not far off from one.

"How old are you?" Brittany asked, brazen.

"Seventeen," Mike replied. "I would turn eighteen in a few months."

"Would?" Brittany saw Mike's dark eyes meet hers and she was struck by visions of Santana. It wasn't that Mike looked like Santana because he didn't at all. It was his eyes. His sad brown eyes showed his sorrow and his defeat and most of all, the tiny glimmer of hope that he held. She recognized it right away. She was used to seeing it, after all.

"If everything works out," Mike said with allusion before his tone changed to darker and harsher. "Brittany, I want you to be honest for a second now."

Brittany nodded. Mike's eyes had turned cold as ice and Brittany shuddered. She had remembered seeing that in Santana once as well.

"Why did you come here with me?"

"I," Brittany found that her throat was dry. "I don't… I mean, you asked me, so-"

"You didn't have any other intentions when you came with me here?" Mike asked the question like he knew the answer and Brittany knew that he did. He threw his hands in the air and looked up at the ceiling like it didn't even exist. Brittany knew that he was looking up at the stars. He turned to Brittany and shook his head, defeated. "I thought that they took everything I had, but apparently they haven't yet. What is it that you want from me?"

"I don't know. I didn't… I just wanted to secure the alliance, that's all; I swear. I was going to make sure that we were friends so you won't kill me," Brittany admitted, tears now filling her eyes. "But then you brought me here and I started thinking about swimming and beaches and my best friend, Sam, and then I saw your eyes and I couldn't stop thinking of Sa- my mentor."

She stumbled on the last few words and Mike's cold eyes seemed to soften. Her explanation really didn't explain anything. She knew it was pretty pathetic. She was about to offer more, because she felt a terrible need to explain herself to the tall boy, when Mike spoke first.

"So it's true then. What they're saying about you and your mentor?"

"What are they saying about us?"

Brittany's mind was racing with thoughts of vicious rumours surrounding her and Santana. But mostly Santana. She remembered how she would walk around town in District Four and she would hear whispers of Santana's rumoured promiscuity. She remembered how much they hurt her and how Santana, on the rare times she would enter town, would walk with her head high and her eyes full of apprehension. She wondered if the brunette would wear the same expression upon hearing the rumours Mike spoke of.

"That she's seducing you for momentary pleasures," Mike said with a smirk. "Or at least that's what _my_ mentor said."

Brittany felt anger bubble in the pit of her stomach.

"She's n-"

"She volunteered for you," Mike stated. "A few years ago."

"Yes," Brittany said, metaphorically puffing her chest out with pride for Santana. "She did and she won."

"And you're here now," Mike stated another obvious statement.

"I am," Brittany responded.

Mike nodded and didn't say anything else. For a while he just stood there, his eyes glued to the ceiling and searching for the stars.

"I'm sorry for snapping," Mike sighed. "Life just sucks, you know?"

Brittany thought to those late nights when Santana's tiny body was tucked inside her longer one. She thought about the way Santana would play with the tips of her long, golden hair, twirling them around dexterous fingers before letting them slip away. She thought about the feeling of Santana's hot, slow breath against her neck and the steady beating of her heart next to her own.

No, Brittany almost said. But then she remembered.

"Yeah, life sucks."

Mike let out a dry laugh. "I just wanted to dance. All I ever wanted was to dance."

"All I ever wanted," Brittany trailed off, not really wanting to say the words in front of Mike. It wasn't like she was ashamed. How could anyone be ashamed of Santana? No. But what she and Santana had was special and pure. She didn't want anyone to taint it.

So instead, she left her statement unfinished. But, something about his smile was too knowing. Oddly enough, Brittany didn't mind at all.

"I don't know much about dancing but…"

With a shy smile, Brittany held out her hand, awkwardly. She didn't really know the proper way for a girl to ask a boy to dance. The splitting smile on Mike's face told her that he understood exactly what her gesture meant. He took her hand and led her into the middle of the room.

And for a while, they just danced.

By the time Mike and Brittany had decided to go back to the dining hall, they were covered in a thin layer of sweat. She wasn't quite sure how long it was that they had been dancing for. It could've been five minutes or five hours but it all felt the same to her. She had felt more free in that paradoxically tiny, confined room than she had for a long time. She felt like Mike felt more free than he ever had in his life.

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><p>They walked down the hallway that they had arrived in, silently as opposed to their raucous running earlier that day, but when they reached the dining room they had seen that it was nearly empty. Only a few Tributes remained, mostly older ones and ones that looked desperate. Brittany guessed that they hadn't managed to secure any alliances.<p>

As soon as they entered the room, they were greeted by looks of disapproval and judgements.

They left as soon as they came.

They were on the short walk to the main lobby when they spoke again.

"I won't kill you," Mike said.

"I won't either," Brittany sighed in admittance. "Unless we're the last two. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Mike chuckled. "I'm not expecting to come out of this. I want to, but I'm being realistic."

As the wide hallway turned into a wider , extravagant lobby, Brittany caught the familiar figure of Santana walking in from the dark outside. She was wearing a skirt longer than what she usually wore and it brought Brittany momentary joy. It's not that Santana didn't look amazing in those tight, short clothes because she so did. But Brittany hated the way people looked at her. Everyone looked at her different but none of them looked at her the right way. Looks of lust and desire and jealousy shouldn't be given to Santana. She deserved so much better, the best even.

The sight of Santana brought a goofy smile to Brittany's face. She raised a hand to wave at the girl and Santana responded by mouthing the sentiment back to her, smiling shyly. Brittany turned to Mike with an apologetic smile.

"I should…" Brittany started.

"Yeah, I got you," Mike laughed. "I'm gonna go find Jesse. Or maybe Zizes. See you around."

Brittany knew that Mike had started walking away from her and she had a feeling that the raven-haired boy probably waved or shouted goodbye or something like that but she couldn't really process anything except for the beautiful girl that was smiling at her.

"I knew you'd look beautiful in that dress," Santana said, her eyes trailing up the length of Brittany's tall frame. Brittany could almost feel her eyes touching along her legs up her thighs and over the expanse of her stomach and her cheeks started to heat up. Santana's eyes snapped back up to Brittany's blue ones and Brittany laughed at the cocky grin that appeared on her face. "I was right, as usual. You look perfect."

"I think you look better," Brittany murmured.

"Agree to disagree," Santana smiled.

Her eyes seemed to flash into that same look Mike had when he was confronting Brittany earlier. Brittany was worried and started thinking about something she might've said or an expression that she might've worn on her face. She realized then that Santana wasn't looking at her but at somewhere behind her.

Brittany turned around and scanned the area behind her, looking for the target of Santana's stare. She didn't see anyone behind her except for Puck, Artie, and that girl from Artie's district. She thought that maybe it was Puck that Santana was looking at but wasn't quite sure why.

"Let's go upstairs," Santana nodded toward the elevator, with her eyes still on Puck.

Santana's fingers trailed down the inside of Brittany's arm, over her wrist, and across her palm until they laced themselves with Brittany's. Brittany smiled at the small, but still present, sign of affection and squeezed at Santana's darker hand. From the short walk to the elevator to the short ride up the elevator to the shorter walk to her room, Santana's hand never left Brittany's. Sure, everything was really, well, short, but something about the way that Santana let her thumb lazily stroke at Brittany's made Brittany feel like she would never stop, even if they had been walking for a hundred years. She didn't even let go when she had to open the door to her room.

Brittany kicked off her shoes and placed them carefully against the wall of the small foyer just like Santana liked. When Santana's boots were off her feet, Brittany took them from in front of Santana and lined them up beside her own.

"Thank you," Santana said, a luminous smile greeting Brittany when she looked up.

"Don't mention it," she murmured and bit the inside her cheek to keep from completely squealing at how adorable Santana looked. She shook thoughts of grabbing Santana's face and squeezing her cheeks out of her mind and went into Santana's bathroom to change. She picked a bag off the floor that she had stuffed with her most comfortable sleepwear that morning and dropped off at Santana's door. When she finished changing into her tiny shorts and tank-top and came out of the washroom, she saw that Santana was wearing the same thing, equally as flimsy and really really sexy.

"So what did you do while I was at the world's most boring dinner ever?"

Brittany jumped onto Santana's bed and fluffed the pillows so that she could get as comfortable as possible. They were still pretty fluffy from the day before when Brittany fluffed them because Santana never liked any of the cleaning staff to fix her bed or anything. She didn't even have them bring in new towels or wash her clothes. She did it all herself. Brittany wasn't sure the cleaning staff even had a key to Santana's room. She was super picky about stuff like that.

"Got you a present," Santana teased, now standing at the edge of the bed. "Did you fluff the pillows all nice?"

"Uh huh," Brittany nodded. She grasped at Santana's hand and pulled her down beside her onto the bed. They adjusted themselves so that they were facing each other and lying on their sides. "More presents?"

"More?" Santana repeated, raising her eyebrows. "I was not aware that I've given you any presents."

"The dress," Brittany clarified, picturing the expensive silky gown in her head. "The shoes. And all that jewellery that Rachel put on me before I left for the dinner. She told me that it was from you. All that stuff must have cost you like an arm."

"It was nothing," Santana shrugged off.

"It wasn't cheap, though," Brittany reasoned in a soft voice. She liked the stuff and all but she didn't need Santana to do all that for her. "You shouldn't spend your money on me like that."

"It was as much of a present for me as it was for you," Santana admitted, playing with the stretch of skin between Brittany's thumb and index finger. Brittany saw the beginnings of a grin at her lips. "Just without the intense discomfort of walking around in heels for me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you looked beautiful. I told you that already," Santana said, in a light tone.

"Thank you," Brittany smiled. "But your compliments will not distract me, Santana Lopez. I believe I was promised a present?"

"I'm not sure it's what you're expecting," Santana chewed at the corner of her lip.

"Well, I'm not really expecting anything," Brittany fired back with a smile. "Just show me."

"Okay," Santana said, nervously. "I'm just warning you, it's nothing special so don't have like super high expectations."

She pulled it out of her back pocket. Brittany didn't know what it was at first because Santana was hiding it in her enclosed fist. Brittany gently pried open Santana's fingers to reveal something gold and rather dull. There was a tiny animal in the centre of it that Brittany didn't quite recognize and a tiny dog standing right underneath. They were both in the middle of a long vertical fish shape that reminded Brittany of some of the old church ruins on the edge of town where Districts Four and Five meet.

"I thought you could use it as your Tribute token," Santana said, softly. "I mean, if you don't already have one."

"I know that the fish is for our home and I know that's a dog… But what's this animal?" Brittany inspected the token with furrowed eyebrows and let her fingers run over the intricate texture of it.

"It's a boar. It's some kind of pig," Santana whispered. "I went to this guy in the Capitol and looked up family crests and stuff. Pierce had a boar on it."

Brittany almost wanted to cry just because Santana was so sweet.

"You know what it means?" Santana asked, drawing the blonde's eyes back to her.

"No," Brittany rasped.

"Fierce fighter. One that fights to the death. A long time ago, the boar was worn as a charm in battle to protect against injury." Santana ran her fingers over the tiny boar and they touched Brittany's. "I thought it was fitting."

"It's amazing. What's the dog for?"

"Oh," Santana's face suddenly turned red even though, the week before, she claimed that she couldn't really blush. "It's on mine. The Lopez crest had a dog on it. I just thought that you could use it to remember me in there."

"I like dogs," Brittany smiled, choosing to ignore Santana's obvious embarrassment. "What does a dog mean?"

"Courage, fidelity, and loyalty."

Brittany couldn't think of any three words to describe Santana better than those.

"It's funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?" Brittany said, catching Santana's eyes once again. "I love it, Santana. Thank you."

"Will you wear it?" She was wearing that ridiculous puppy dog face again. As if Brittany would deny her in the first place. "In the arena? I bought a chain for it and everything. I would've made it like shiny but I didn't want the sun to reflect off of it and give you away or something."

"It's okay, Santana. Of course, I will. Proudly so," Brittany said, her voice full of emotion. "Do you have any idea what this means to me? Thank you so much."

Brittany smiled a watery smile and Santana's seemed to mirror it. She saw Santana reach across the bed and gently place her hand on Brittany's hip. She shuffled closer to Brittany so that they were lying with their foreheads touching.

"Long day, huh Britt-Britt? You should sleep," Santana whispered. Brittany nodded and closed her eyes. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

One that fights to the death. It was fitting. But then again, everyone would be fighting to the death.

Brittany hoped that Santana conveniently forgot to mention that boars also symbolized victory or something. Fighting wasn't enough. She knew that she needed to win.

* * *

><p><strong>So there is one more chapter in part one! Review :)<br>**

**OH PS- I saw this story on a fic recommendation list on Tumblr and I freaked out. Like seriously, I think I screamed. So if you're out there, thank you.**


	14. If I Should Stay

**Shelter  
>Part One<br>Chapter Fourteen: If I Should Stay**

**Ships: **Brittana with Sam/Brittany, Santofsky, Puck/Brittany, Quinntana friendships. Very minor Quick.**  
>Summary: <strong>The only thing worse than being reaped is volunteering for someone you love. Because then they have something to use against you. Brittany and Santana learn that the hard way.  
><strong>Other: <strong>This is a Hunger Games AU. Every chapter will be named after a line from a Glee song with contextual or sometimes more literal relevance to the chapter.  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

**Author's Note: **So this chapter is a lot shorter, but I guess that's just how it worked out. Last part of part one.

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><p>Santana didn't know how long she lay awake for. Brittany was curled into her side and was snoring softly, the necklace wrapped in her clenched fist. She had been adjusting and readjusting her head, changing the positions of her arms, and kicking her feet softly since her eyes shut. She hadn't been that restless while she was sleeping in a while.<p>

Santana looked down and saw that Brittany's forehead was wrinkled and her eyes were shut tightly as if she were clinging onto her slumber. She softly hushed Brittany and stroked at her hair, hoping to quell what she was sure were nerves for the impending day.

She was as scared as Brittany was. She wanted to stay wrapped in Brittany for a few more minutes or perhaps another lifetime, but she knew that she had something that she needed to do. She gently pried Brittany's arms off of her and slid out of her embrace. She landed on the thickly carpeted floor, on her knees, and gently wrapped the thick blankets around the sleeping girl.

Her eyes traced the deepening lines of Brittany's forehead and the wrinkles in the corners of her eyelids. She hoped that she would sleep better soon, because she wouldn't be getting a good night's sleep in a while. She leaned over the edge of the mattress and pressed a kiss to the Brittany's forehead.

"I'll be back," Santana whispered, her lips still pressed to Brittany.

She left the room, quietly, and was careful to close the door slowly. When the door was closed, she did nothing but close her eyes and listen. She hoped that no one else was awake. The last thing she needed was Dave or Mags coming out of their rooms to walk around or something. When nothing but silence greeted her, Santana quickly made her way down the hall.

"Fuck," Santana muttered. She was halfway down the hall when she realized that she didn't put any shoes on. A part of her tried to justify it in her mind. She probably made less noise padding around in her socks than she would in a pair of boots or heels or even one of her more comfortable pairs of flats. Her logic made sense, but she knew how stupid and sloppy that was.

She stopped in front of the door to Puck's room and turned the door knob. It rotated in her hand easily and she thanked whatever god was out there that Puck could listen to one simple instruction. She slipped through the door easily and closed the door as slowly as she did her own.

"Took you long enough," Puck said, exasperated. He was standing in the center of the room, leaning on one leg. "I kind of need some sleep, you know,"

"I got caught up," Santana defended. "And I doubt you would've slept much, anyways."

"Whatever," Puck scoffed. "So what's up? Need to go over the extremely vague game plan once again?"

Santana walked deeper into the room and sat on the desk across from the bed. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at Puck. She was immediately hit with some kind of shitty feeling of guilt.

"Don't even try to plan anything before you step foot in there," Santana snorted. "It will all go to hell. Trust me on that."

"Still," Puck reasoned, throwing his hands up. "I feel like I'm going in there blind."

"You are," Santana snapped back. "Everyone is. All I need you to do is protect Brittany from afar. It doesn't matter to me if you want to be in some ragtag alliance or if you want to do this alone."

"Yeah, I know," Puck said, rubbing his forehead with his hand. "Is that all?"

"No."

Santana dug in her back pocket and pulled out a necklace, like the one she had made for Brittany. The chain was a dull silvery grey, while Brittany's was gold, and instead of the long cylindrical fish shape, the pendant was a jumping grey fish and a gold triton, enclosed in a circle. Quinn had given it to her as a pin, but she knew that Puck wasn't really one to announce things to the world, especially things that were so private and sacred to him, and it was easy to connect the sigil with the Fabray's.

"Here," she thrust her hand out. "Quinn told me to give it to you before we left home. I just made it into a necklace."

She felt him take the necklace from her hand, but tried not to look at him. She finally did, though, when he murmured a mystified 'oh wow'. She was drawn in by his eyes. She never even realized until then that they looked hazel with gold spots speckled across the iris.

"She used to wear this to school sometimes," Puck muttered, studying the tiny fish. "Whenever there were special events going on, she'd wear a blazer instead of her cardigans and she'd wear this on that collar thing."

"Yeah," Santana said, watching Puck. She pointed to the door with her thumb. "Well, I'm gonna go, so-"

"Hang on," Puck said, snapping out of his stupor. He turned on his heel and rifled through his open travel bag that was on his dresser. He pulled out a white envelope and held it out for her. "It's for Quinn."

"I'll make sure it gets to her," Santana said, honestly, and turned around. She walked to the door and put her hand on the door knob before he called out to her again.

"You know, the other day I was thinking," Puck recalled, his eyes still on the tiny sigil. "You say a lot of things. To me, especially about our deal and sometimes about my baby. When you said that you'd make sure I'd see my baby, I thought you meant that two of us would be coming out of the arena."

He looked up at her with a hurt expression and Santana could feel her stomach filling with guilt.

"But then I started thinking about the things you didn't say and suddenly everything made sense."

"I'm not sorry for what I'm doing," Santana started. "But I'm sorry that you-"

"Can you please just go?"

His eyes were screwed shut and it looked like he was wincing. Like it physically pained him to say the words. She hesitated, just for a moment, but in the end, she did.

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><p>Santana woke up early the next morning. Well actually, she didn't sleep at all that night, but at the moment when she snapped out of her thoughts and daze, her clock read 7 AM. She had been awake for hours, but strangely not really conscious of anything. She didn't take in Brittany's child-like movements during the night nor the oddly early rising of the sun through her curtain-diffused windows. She had been laying there for hours, staring at the ceiling and thinking.<p>

Brittany wasn't to be downstairs for another two hours. She wrenched her arm out of where it ended up in the night, between their bodies, and brought it up to Brittany's face. She let her fingers linger over the ring of light created by her hair in the soft morning glow streaming through the curtains of her window before dropping them to her own hips.

For the past few weeks, she had been training with Brittany vigorously and consulting with Dave and Mags and having secret midnight meetings with Puck, but she never really absorbed the situation. Even at that moment, she reflected that she was rather calm about everything. She knew that she shouldn't be, but she unexplainably was.

She heard a sudden knock at her door and shot her eyes down to see if Brittany had awoken. The girl was still sleeping soundly. Santana slid off the bed, careful not to move too much and wake her, and answered her door.

Waiting at the door was an Avox, the very same one that had driven her to Will's office that night and the same one that unpacked her luggage from the bullet train, in all his awkwardly tall glory. He was standing behind a cart half his size, with a stack of banana chocolate chip pancakes drenched in syrup and sitting on top on a pristine silver plate. If it was any other day, Santana probably would have smirked and made another comment to the familiar Avox, but instead, she nodded in gratitude and took the plate and cutlery and shut the door in the boy's face.

When she turned around, plate in hand, she was greeted with the sight of Brittany rubbing at her eyelids.

"Hey," Brittany yawned and glanced at the clock.

"Hey," Santana said, contentedly. "Pancakes?"

Brittany looked at the plate, with doubt in her eyes. "I thought breakfast wasn't served today."

"Oh," Santana said, eyes wide. "It's not, but… I just thought you'd want to eat. You should eat. It's going to be a long day and you should eat."

Santana watched Brittany's silent internal argument and inched closer to her until she stood just a foot away from her.

"It's not fair, though," Brittany reasoned. "No one else will get to eat breakfast."

"Britt," Santana sighed. "What exactly is fair about this?"

Brittany nodded, in understanding and took the plate from her. She set it on her blanket-covered lap and began to eat. Santana watched her cut the pancakes into small pieces and pick at them for a while before finally eating. She ate in silence; she didn't speak once or even look at Santana. When she was finished easy, she set the plate on the bedside table and let out a shaky breath.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Brittany mumbled. "For everything. For helping me and training me and everything."

"You don't need to," Santana said, shaking her head. "I wanted to. So much."

"I know but still," Brittany said, wiping her eyes. Santana wasn't sure when she started crying. "Thank you for everything."

There was a thought at the back of her mind that Santana was trying to force out. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn't. It was there and it was growing by the second.

"Why does this sound like a goodbye?" Santana burst out, in confusion.

"Because it is," Brittany laughed through her watery eyes and tight throat. "I'm saying goodbye to you Santana."

"No," Santana shot away from Brittany, walking backwards until she hit the wall. "No, don't- do not say goodbye to me. Don't."

"I don't care if you don't want to hear it, I need to say it." Brittany persisted. She stood up and walked forward until she was directly in front of Santana.

"Just…" Santana protested. "You're coming back. You're coming back to me. Why would you say goodbye if I'm going to see you again?"

"Goodbye for now, then," Brittany clarified. "Goodbye and I'll see you in like two weeks or however long this'll take. Goodbye for now."

"I want to be there. " Santana whispered and swallowed loudly. "I'm going to go down with you and be the last person you see before you go in. You can- I'll say goodbye to you then if you want me to."

"I want you to," Brittany admitted and took in a deep breath. "I'd really like that."

"Okay," Santana said. "You should go and get ready and stuff."

"Yeah," Brittany nodded in agreement, but didn't move. "I should."

"I'll see you when you get off the plane. I'll be in your waiting room, okay?"

"Okay," she replied almost inaudibly. "I'll see you soon."

Santana walked down the long, empty hallway towards the room where Brittany would be entering the arena from. The hallway was completely empty except for the doorway at the end of it and Santana felt dread creeping up from inside of her.

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><p>She didn't want to do this. It took her so long to convince herself that she wanted to be here, but truthfully she didn't. She was still trying to tell herself that she shouldn't run all the way back to her room. She knew that Brittany needed her here and that she did want to see Brittany one last time, but she didn't know if she could emotionally take it.<p>

It was suddenly becoming very real that she couldn't control what would happen beyond the point when Brittany would walk into that pod and the platform would rise.

Before she knew it, she was at the door and her open palm was hovering centimetres away from the door knob. She paused, took a deep breath, and gathered the rest of the courage that she had to throw the door open. She probably shouldn't have entered so abruptly and so loud because Brittany jumped up from the table she was sitting on top of.

Santana didn't say anything when she walked toward Brittany and Brittany didn't say anything either. The blonde held out the Tribute Token that Santana had given her with pale, shaking fingers. Santana took it out of her hands and stepped behind Brittany. She clasped the necklace onto her and she lifted her soft blonde hair.

"Remember everything I taught you, okay. Do you know how you're meeting up with Jesse?"

"Yes."

"Be invisible."

"I know."

"Be smart."

"I know."

"Be safe."

"I know."

Brittany dropped her hair, turned around and pressed her lips to Santana's.

Santana held Brittany hips and felt the wet tears slide down Brittany's face when she brought her hands to her face. She pulled away from her and leaned their foreheads together. She whispered words of comfort in her quietest voice because even though they were the only ones in the room, it felt like they were being watched by the world. She pressed their lips together again, quicker and shorter, and wiped the tears from rosy cheeks.

She pressed her lips to her cheek before separating, and, holding her hand, pulled her toward the open glass cylinder. Brittany wiped the last of her tears away and stepped into the chamber. The glass door shut between them.

Santana pressed her hand to the glass and Brittany did the same.

Santana didn't move throughout the entire minute long countdown. When it finally ended, she left the room, feeling as empty as ever before.

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><p>That night, Santana was lying in her bed that was suddenly too small. She heard the loud sound of a cannon coming from behind the glass of her window. It sounded again and again and again. She heard the sound of a thirteenth cannon and waited anxiously for the next one, but it didn't come. She heard the buzz of the Capitol quiet for the night as the citizens surely moved their watching parties to the privacy of their own homes.<p>

And finally, when all was quiet, when she could not hear another sound but her own laboured breathing, she cried.

_End of Part One._

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><p><strong>So that's the end of part one. Hope you liked it. I'll be posting part two under the same story and everything so if you have it on alert, then you're good! I'd love some reviews... What do you think is going to happen in the arena? Particularly with Puck ;)<strong>

**To Guest:  
><strong>**I don't have any plans to write the flashback of Santana's reaping any time soon, but if I do it will either be at the end of part two or in part three. I've definitely considered it, but I'm not sure exactly how it would go down. I have an idea of it in my head and once I know for sure what I want it to be like, I'll write it! Thanks for your interest :)**


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